The Devils Bargain
by The Lady Frost
Summary: A girl. A boy. A mansion. A lifetime. What it means to be: twin souls. The story of a thief and a hero - and the mastermind that stood between. The long, rambling, big hearted, smutty tale of two people on the journey that would make them heroes. Valenfield. Reworked.
1. The Winds from the West

**A/N:** _I took down the butchered version of this. I'm reworking/reposting it the way I wanted it. Shorter chapters, more refined, still the smutty, wonderfully uneven journey across the years that I'd originally envisioned. Thank you for reading._

* * *

 **The Devil's Bargain**

* * *

 **One:**

 **The Winds from the West**

* * *

 **Raccoon City, 1998**

* * *

She rose above him, slim and beautiful. The curve and cup and feel of her was like silk and sin and something he couldn't find the words to describe. He was gone for her and gone in her and gone in ways that had no name and never had in any language ever spoken.

Was there anything more beautiful in the entire universe?

He sat up sharply, spilling her into her lap to be even with him. His fingers twisted and gripped in her hair. He brought his mouth to him and kissed her, all tongue, all tasting greed. She murmured, wrapping her legs around him. Her eyes were closed, his were open; watching her. He could nothing but watch her. The curve and line of her face, the temptation of her lips, the blade of her nose all cast in shadow from the window beyond. He'd done nothing but see her, waking and asleep, since the moment they'd met.

He scooped her hair back from her face and slowed the rhythm of their rolling bodies. Sweating, gasping, she opened her eyes now and looked down at him. He saw the moment it arrowed into her, the truth of it. She knew he'd been watching her this whole time. He drew her down to kiss her again, soft and wet.

She held his eyes, shivering.

And it was the moment he knew he'd love her for the rest of his life.

* * *

 **Redfield, North Dakota Summer 1997**

* * *

"CLAIRE!"

Chris Redfield came out of the shower with a fury. He barely had the towel wrapped around his waist. Claire, his baby sister who was home from college for the summer, was sitting at little table in the kitchen area with her Walkman in her ears. They were at their parents cabin for a long weekend.

His mother, Siobahn, was cooking at the tiny stove. She was a tall woman with a curly mess of red hair that was echoed in her daughter. The green eyes she turned to him were concerned. "Christopher!" The irish accent was thick and beautiful in her voice, "Here now. Why are you shouting? It can't be all that bad now, can it? You best be reconsidering how you raise your voice when I'm surrounded by popping grease and a frying pan."

"Sorry, Mama. Really. But Claire used all the hot water again!"

Claire, who'd somehow become a woman since last he'd seen her, shrugged and gave him the finger. She didn't even bother to remove her headphones.

Siobahn gave her a pointed look. Claire made a face and lowered her headphones. She said, grudgingly, "Sorry."

Chris rolled his eyes. "I generally don't take cold showers unless there's extenuating circumstances, Claire. Come on."

"Oh yeah? You mean like every time you see a pretty girl?"

Again, THE LOOK. Claire looked sheepish until their mother turned back to the stove. And she gave him the finger again.

"I'm gonna shove that finger up your ass, Claire."

"Christopher!"

"Sorry Mama." And he gave the finger back to his sister as he returned to the bathroom.

They were packing up the Wrangler out front when he came out. His father, Jack, was loading the fishing gear up. Jack Redfield was the reason for the cabin. It was there, in the town he'd been born and raised and shared a name with. It was his family's cabin and had been for as long as anyone could remember. Jack came from a long line of Lakota heritage. It was evident in his long black hair, carefully braided to his scalp and the coppery perfection of his skin, and outlined in the strong line of his jaw and face. His dark eyes were thoughtful and calm and patient. His patience was often mistaken for disinterest but the humor of Siobahn had opened him in ways that had no name years and years before when he'd met her.

He glanced up at his son as Chris' came out of the house to help him. Chris was inches taller then his old man but built the same. They were both tall and lean with the same jaw and nose. Chris had his mother's eyes and the soft freckles. They were dusted across skin somewhere between Irish pale and Lakota copper. Chris never burned. He tanned, beautifully.

Claire burned like a biscuit left too long in the oven. Her irish rose skin turned the color of a crab after a few hours in the sun. Chris never missed an opportunity to slap her on it when she was burnt. They were always torturing each other.

Jack said, "No Veronica this weekend?"

"God no. That's done. She was A-Class nutso."

"She seemed nice enough."

"Yeah. Until you slept with her. And then she started stalking me. What a psycho bitch."

"Don't let your mother hear you talk like that."

"I won't."

Jack watched Chris move. His handsome boy. All grown up and graduated from the police academy. Finally free from his years in the military after highschool, Chris had come home and gone right into police training. Jack was proud of him. The boy had a good head on his shoulders and a heart as big as it was loving. That was likely Siobahn's doing. But the good head? That was all him.

"You better find a girl and get married soon. Or your mother will start hounding you for grandbabies."

"Cheese and rice, Dad. I'm not looking for that kind of shit."

"Language."

"Sorry. But I'm not. I took that job in Raccoon City though."

"Yeah?"

"Maybe. It's still a few months off to be sure. But it sounds promising. Apparently the guy building the team asked for me specifically. So that's good right?"

"Naturally."

Jack tried to heft the heavy cooler into the Jeep and Chris said, "Here, Dad. Let me get that."

He did it easily. Jack studied him while Chris moved. He had a caged predator look to him that often drew female attention. The lithe frame was edging leanly into muscle. Chris had always had a desire to be the biggest dog in the pack. His obsession with building muscle had paid off. He clearly had no trouble hefting the heavy items.

"You realize, Chris, that meeting the right girl has nothing to do with your timing. Right?"

"Don't start on that fate stuff again, Dad. Seriously."

"You know what my people say, Chris, about planning your own."

"What? You think I'm going to show up in Raccoon City and meet my soul mate or something?"

The wind trickled and rolled around them, bringing a cool breeze from the West. Jack watched his son and felt the stirring of his ancestors. He said nothing…but he smiled.

"Come on, Dad. You don't really believe that stuff right? You think we don't choose our own fate?"

"I think fate chooses us. And we determine how to live within it. Something is stirring here. What? I can't say. But it's bringing the wind from the West. We'll have rain before nightfall."

His Dad was always doing that kind of thing, talking funny and sort of mystical. The scary part was that usually he was right. Chris watched him stare off toward the horizon with that look he got on his face when he was…communing with nature of something.

In one hand, Chris was interested to know what he felt when he did that. In the other, it was very likely hoowee and nonsense that had no place in a world built on rules. Destiny? Chris thought. It was a construct invented by people that simply couldn't do with the idea that they had no real control over their life. The only control you had, of course, was what you went out there and grabbed with both hands.

Siobahn came out of the house. "We should get moving, Jack. I don't suspect the lorry will be able to handle the mud of a long rainy drive home."

The lorry. She meant the Wrangler. But she was Irish and her dialect was always mixing things up. She called the driveway the street. She used words like "jackeen" and made her own cleaning supplies from beeswax and lemon.

She was a dancer slim and bright. She was also the funniest person Chris had ever met. And that was saying something. The laughter in his house growing up was the best part of them.

"Christopher, Veronica rang."

"Ugh."

"I told her, naturally, that you would love to ring her back once we're settled in. She's eagerly awaiting your voice, I'm sure."

"Come on, Mom. I told you about that."

"You did indeed. I'm surely sorry to trouble you, of course. But I can't quite seem to care. I do remember you promising me grandchildren. Do you see any?"

"…no."

"Get to fixing that please. I shan't want to be an old lady when I'm singing to my grandbabes."

"…yes ma'am."

His Dad was grinning over his head at him. Chris rolled his eyes. Siobahn moved to him and brushed his shirt smooth on his chest. "We'll be back for dinner. Try not to anger your sister too much before then. You know she's a right harpy when she's on a tear."

"The word is a bitch, Mama."

"Christopher."

And his Dad said, "Language."

"Sorry."

His mom kissed him. She smiled at him. "What a face! Jack, our boy is the handsomest man in three counties. To be sure."

"Without question."

"Thanks Mom." She kissed him and he smiled. She rubbed at his hair.

"This is terrible. Promise me you'll cut it."

"It's the style, Mama."

"It's awful. Makes you look like some Dublin sharpie with fancy shoes."

Chris rolled his eyes again. She kissed him once more and headed to the Jeep. Jack met his eyes over it. "Watch the weather. It's foretelling something. The wind is leading somewhere, Chris. I feel it in my bones. Is it good? Is it bad? Time will tell."

"I'll make sure I close the windows up."

"Good man. Tell Claire to behave."

"Right. She'll listen."

They climbed into the Jeep and honked the horn as they drove away. He had no way of knowing it would be the last time he saw them alive. Three hours later the rains came, brutal and fast. They whipped in from the West and downed power lines. They also caused the drunk on route 114 to swerve out of his lane.

His parents car took the hit head on. Their Jeep rolled and they died waiting for rescue crushed beneath the wreckage. The drunk driver lived.

The pain of it nearly killed him. Claire was inconsolable. She wouldn't get out of bed for weeks. Chris handled the funeral and the burial alone. He made sure it suited the ancestors.

He took a lock of his father's hair to the great tree and buried it beneath the earth at its feet. He rose at dawn and communed with the spirits. He spent two days sending their spirits to the waiting place beyond. He grieved. And drank.

He cried harder than anyone had ever done before. He died inside. He buried his feelings under training. And he took care of Claire.

At first, she wouldn't eat. He had to spoon feed her and force her into the shower. She was broken and lost and riddled with pain. He held her while she cried pieces of herself all over the floor. She didn't know how to exist in a world where they weren't. Neither did he. But he did his best.

She finally went back to school and Chris worked out with the registrar how to pay her tuition. His parents had only the cabin. There was no money there for them to leave to their children. Chris didn't care. He'd find a way to take care of her.

And it all started by moving to Raccoon City.

Hell or high water, he had to get the job now.

He stood outside of the cabin and stared off into the darkening horizon. What had his Dad said? Something was coming. Would he find it, he wondered, in Raccoon City?

* * *

 **Raccoon City, Winter 1997**

* * *

Snow blew slow and gentle over the bustling city streets. The feeling of the holidays was hanging close above it, filling the sidewalks with eager shoppers and bright color packages. Tinsel and light presents, ornaments, and Christmas trees were strung in pretty array over the beautiful street lamps that lined the often cobblestone streets downtown. The clock tower at the heart of the city was covered in lights and lit up at night like a beacon.

The sprawling city of Raccoon had started life as a wide spot in the road. The injection of funds and inclusion of commerce by the Umbrella Pharmaceutical Company had turned it into a metropolis. It had gone from a Kansas farm to a city worth of Superman seemingly overnight.

The architecture was world reknowned. It was showed in the skyline and the buildings done in beautiful old stone work and revivalist arches and glass. It was a heady mix of new and old, showing a classical appreciate and a clear indication of a push toward the modern. It was ahead of its time, in some ways, the subway beneath the city was lightyears beyond what it should have been, showing that there was innovation in the eyes of those who wanted to see it thrive.

The Zoo was a marvel. It had brought in a variety of species of rare and exotic animals. People came from all over to enjoy the elephants and the nearly massive variety of frogs that had been imported from all over.

The RPD station was the jewel in the cap of Umbrella's greatest successes to date. Designed to remain gothic and classical and yet to offer cutting edge innovated technology with a gothic edge, it housed the ever growing police force and the newly created Special Tactics and Rescue Squad.

Little was known about the man responsible for coordinating the adoption of the S.T.A.R.S. he came highly recommended and on the heels of some kind of military training that was unclear. It was known that he was practically a genius and potentially a little odd. It wasn't known where he'd really come from before. But Umbrella had dumped more money than god into the city, so people were content to hire whomever they suggested without being too concerned about it.

The Mayor frequented the RPD station to visit with the police chief on more than once occasion and offered insight into the future of the burgeoning city. There were plans to expand the plants outside the city and generate jobs. The future, it seemed, was in vaccine and medical supply production. Healing the World One Step at a Time: Umbrella Pharmaceuticals.

The creation of jobs came with a downside, of course, as the influx of people into the city had created a higher crime rate and a need for a stronger police presence as a result. The call had gone out for qualified candidates and the lobby was sure to be filled with potential hopefuls looking for a chance to save the world and serve and protect.

He was late. Naturally. Because he was always late for everything in his life. If he was on time, it was rare and often times over looked by those who didn't know him. Chris Redfield was notorious for being at least fifteen minutes late to everything. Objectively, he'd probably even be late to his own funeral.

He bobbled folders and tried to figure out how to avoid pitfalls of snow along the path to the Raccoon City Police Department. He'd moved to Raccoon City three months before. The offer for S.T.A.R.S. had come on the heels of dealing with his parent's estate.

The accident still haunted him. He'd never forget the phone call. He'd never forget the fog in his brain that didn't go away for a month. He'd never forget any of it.

But it made him stronger and better for it.

There was no place to go now but up. He was seldom a man who dwelled in regret. Regret cost you in the battle. Regret made you weak. It left you vulnerable and naked in a world that fucked losers dry and left them crying in their own blood. He didn't have time for regret. He didn't have time for any of it. Claire needed money and he need this fucking job. He didn't need anything distracting him from that.

And then the wind blew him into the building and everything changed.

* * *

Jill Valentine shifted her curly dark hair around her face, nervous, and a little tired of waiting. The good thing about the police station in this stupid little Midwest town was that it was kinda awesome. She could see the time and effort put into its design. Someone cared enough about law enforcement to at least give the cops here a fun place to work.

The fountain in the lobby of the building was unparalleled. It was awesome sauce squared. It seemed to offer more than she knew in terms of its purpose. She was betting somebody was going to figure out its secrets one of these days…because something like that clearly had them.

She was in a little blue suit with a pencil skirt. It felt like she was wearing an itchy wool jumpsuit. She scratched her panty hose and shifted in her seat to look at her watch. Two hours.

Two HOURS? She'd been sitting here for TWO HOURS ALREADY. She sighed, watching another set of prostitutes get set down three rows over and locked to the bar. One winked at her with her gummy fake lashes. Jill smiled back, amused.

Surely this damn job wasn't worth the wait. It was tits, no lie, and had been offered to her at a time when she could barely pay the rent so it was also a god send. Otherwise she'd have been working at the local strip club in about a week to buy SPAM and Ramen Noodles. But that didn't mean they had to keep her sitting here FOREVER.

Jill glanced around trying to find something interesting to look at. She'd already studied the balcony and the lobby. She'd taken a brief walk around while the receptionist was aware that she was STILL THERE and STILL WAITING. The lady did look apologetic about it.

Jill moved into the cool lobby again as the doors opened and let the January cold in on a rush of frigid wind and freshly falling snow. The boy that came through them was tall. Really tall. She was betting at least six foot one and had that look of a kid trying to buff up and making good progress. He was broad shouldered under his ragged looking navy suit. The tie was crooked and the shirt beneath a little wrinkled. He had a sock hat stuffed on his head, arms full of folders, and the expression of someone running late.

And then he dropped the folders all over the floor and used a word that made her brows raise into her hair. She paused to see if anyone else was going to help him pick them up…nope. No one gave a fuck but her apparently. Fucking Raccoon City.

Jill hurried forward and bent down to help him.

"Hey thanks." The voice was nice, gravelly, and fit the face that turned to smile at her. A good face, she thought, handsome with an edge of something ethnic there. The eyes were a shade of blue somewhere between sky and sea. One way green, one way blue…pretty. Hers were blue of course but they were the blue of good steel. This guy never had the same color twice.

Jill smiled a little, "No problem. I'm Jill. Jill Valentine."

"Chris Redfield, how ya doin?" They shook.

"Honestly? I'm pissed off. Been sitting here for two fucking hours waiting for an interview."

"Yeah? What for?"

"Special Tactics and Rescue Squad…which vaguely sounds like a kids t.v. show. Sunday mornings with S.T.A.R.S!"

Chris Redfield laughed and nodded a little, "It does indeed. What would that be about I wonder? Teaching kids the perils of cleaning up drunks on the side of the road? Also..that's good for me. I'm late for the same interview. If you haven't even gone yet, I'm still good to go."

Jill Valentine was notoriously late for everything, so she got it. It was the first of many things that would bond them. She had been most of her life. It was perpetuated by a father that didn't know how to even be remotely on time. If he showed up at all of course. Henri-Louis Valentin was seldom, if ever, around when you needed him. She hadn't heard from him in years. Being in lock up all the time tended to impact your relationships and making it home for Christmas. Landing state side a French immigrant, Henri tried to Americanize his name and added the E to the end. And so, a brief fling later with her mother Noriko – a Japanese dancer in New York long enough to birth a baby and run away, Jillian-Aime Valentine was born.

Henri was a terrible father. He did the best he could, in some ways. He was lazy and self centered and above the law. So he often times stole or lied or cheated those around him. More than once, she woke up to find him having gotten his ass kicked by someone he'd grifted and gotten caught while doing it. He did seem to love her. He spoiled her with love when he could and educated her with books and bedside speeches. He was smart and stupid and flawed. He was in and out of jail and Jill ended up in foster homes most of her youth. He'd get her out and run her around and they'd sleep in trucks and trailers and have great adventures. He'd go back in lock up and she'd go back to group living and school.

She was smart as a whip and quick on her feet. He taught her how to bleed a bastard with her little knife and crack open safes like a professional. She loved him. And it was a real and painful love. Because he was a terrible, awful, failure of a father. She'd have loved, just once, to wake up in a surburban bedroom and been normal.

Jill carried one half of his folders and they moved into the chairs to sit down again, this time together. "What's all this stuff?"

"Honestly?" And he looked a little bemused and charmingly apologetic, "Test scores, recommendations, evaluations…stuff like that. Paper to impress the people in charge, ya know?"

Jill blinked and sighed. "Damn that's smart. I brought…nothing. Well not true!" She lifted her purse from beside her, "I brought gum!"

Chris laughed and looked at her. Gorgeous, he thought, she was gorgeous. Her eyes lifted a little at the corners and told the story of some kind of heritage that wasn't strictly American. There was no accent, no indication she'd come from anywhere but the town in which they were sitting. The hair was all kinds of curly and like the hide of a chestnut mare he'd had as a boy growing up. He wanted to touch it and see if it felt the same.

"Can I have some? I probably have dragon breath from the nachos I was scarfing down about twenty minutes ago."

"Nachos? Before an interview?" Jill chuckled and handed him a stick of gum. "Was that wise?"

"In hindsight? No. But at the time? Yes. I can't resist chili, cheese, and chips man."

Jill laughed again and slapped his leg. "Oh god…I can't even imagine what happens if you fart while talking to the police chief."

"Maybe he'd laugh. I know I would."

Chris watched her face while she laughed. Yeah, he thought, gorgeous. Perfect little teeth and that mouth that was all top lip and smooth. He pulled off his sock hat and smacked the snow off against his leg. He wasn't a man given to staring at a girl like an idiot but he wanted to stare at Jill Valentine. What was it? The beauty?

No. He'd been around beautiful women plenty. What was it?

Jill chuckled at him. "The sock hat may have been a bad idea too, in hindsight."

"Hat hair?"

"It's pretty bad."

"Well help a guy out here, woman."

Jill turned him toward her and played with his hair. He watched her and he knew he kinda liked her. She had little hands and a brief glance down told him she also had some pretty awesome tits under that saucy little jacket. He was pretty sure she was the first girl since he'd moved to town to interest him like that.

She was probably the first girl since his parents died to even get a second look. What was it about her?

"There! Better. Although…I'm not sure this is the right style hair for you."

"Hey! This is the thing now. I'm working it…sorta."

"You would do good with something shorter. You have a helluva face. You don't need to hide it behind hair."

Chris chuckled. "Well thanks. I'd say the same to you."

"Yeah? I was thinking of cutting it."

"You should. Short. Like here." He touched her face at the chin. And there it was. There was the thing he was looking for…attraction. He was attracted to her, almost painfully. Why? "You don't need the hair. Your face is killer. Show it off."

"You think?"

"For sure."

"Awesome. Thanks."

"You bet." Chris started leafing through his folders to organize them. She studied his profile. He was handsome, yeah, but it wasn't just that. What was it about him that just clicked with her? Resonated had meaning here.

"What's the dark skin tone?"

He glanced up, lifted a brow, and went back to organizing, "My Dad's native American."

"Your dad is? You don't consider yourself to be?"

"No I do. I guess. Kinda. It's weird." He settled his files on the chair next to him and turned toward her now. His arm slid around the back of her chair. It wasn't anything more than a relaxation move. But she liked it. "I grew up in the culture of it, pretty heavily. But my mother isn't at all. She's right off the boat from Ireland, ya know? So there was a culture shift after my sister was born. We had both and they didn't really push too hard at either. I have some strong connections to both sides and sometimes I don't."

"Sounds reasonable." Jill shifted a little closer to him to hear him over the din of the noise in the lobby. "You have a sister?"

"Yeah. Claire. She's starting college now. She's a good kid. Got her head on right. And that's really why I need this job, desperately."

"Oh yeah? I do too. I'm about to get evicted."

"That sucks. I hear ya. And Claire's tuition needs paid."

Jill lifted her brows at him. "Your parents aren't paying it?"

"No. A good part was financial aid and scholarships and pell grants, ya know? But the rest is on me."

"How come?"

"My parents died about six months ago."

There was such pain in his voice. But he said it in that gruff way she was coming to admire and like. She watched his face to see him feel that pain and absorb it. No bullshit, she thought, he just felt it. And she liked that too. She found herself shifting her hand onto his knee and holding. "I'm so sorry."

"Thanks." He smiled a little, "Claire was still too young to be alone. So I got custody of her."

Jill watched his face now. He was something else. He couldn't be very old. Not very old at all. And he'd gotten custody of his teenage sister. And he was trying to pay for her college. "You took over the care of your sister?"

"Of course, she's my baby sister." Like that was it. He said it like that was the only option. No question. Family, Jill realized, she was family.

"And now you're paying for her to go school."

"Yep."

Jill lifted her hand from his knee and put it on the side of his face. He turned to look at her. They held eyes for a long moment. He liked her, he realized, and he liked the touching. She was casual about it, nearly impersonal. She just touched him because she liked it. And he liked that. No games here, he thought, this girl was a dude with tits. And a killer face.

She said, "I'm really glad you dropped your files."

He answered, "Me too. You want me to take you out some time, Jill Valentine?" He felt comfortable asking her and, even more, he felt excited by the idea. He hadn't been excited about anything since his parents had died.

Confident little guy. She grinned at him. "No. But why don't I take you out instead? You can ride on the back of my bike."

Chris snorted out a laugh. "What an image that is. You ride?"

"Yep. I've got a Yamaha. So I'm more of a crotch rocket girl at the moment. But I'm hoping to get my Harley one of these days."

"I've got my Dad's. It's a Heritage Softail. It flies. You want to go sometime? Seriously. I'd love to take you out on it."

"Are you talking about dating me, Chris Redfield?"

"Maybe. You interested?"

"Actually yeah. But I can't do it. I have a boyfriend."

"Just my luck." Chris laughed good naturedly but swallowed the disappointment, "Well how about we go out as friends? I can kick your ass at pool, we can race up the highway."

"In winter?"

"What's life without some risk?"

Jill lifted a brow at him, "Alright. Deal."

It was the dawning of a beautiful friendship - and the beginning of a legend.


	2. Bullseye

**The Devil's Bargain**

* * *

 **Two:**

 **Bullseye**

* * *

 **Raccoon City, 1997**

* * *

Chris Redfield pretty much became her best friend after that night.

They were inseparable after that. They put their desks together at the station. They were always calling each other. They rode bikes in the dead of winter over the next few weeks and found different places to eat together. Chris was a foodie and so was Jill. They loved to drive to obscure hole in the walls and try the cuisine.

Working with Wesker wasn't as bad as it should have been. He was still odd but less creepy. He had them patrolling and cleaning up after drunks and breaking up fights. They worked in conjunction with regular police to assist on drug raids and things that required tactical assistance. They did a lot of paperwork. TONS. TONS AND TONS. It was so boring it was like being punched in the face with boring.

They were put in training simulations constantly. He pitted them against each other on the mat and on the range. She couldn't top Chris on the range and he couldn't beat her on the mat, so it was a good friendship. They ended up in Alpha team together instead of Bravo. What was the distinction? Apparently nothing in terms of skill set. It just distributed the various attributes of the respective members of STARS more equally.

She showed up at Chris' place at odd hours. She always had something stupid to tell him. Did he know that if you poked the sculpture in the RPD lobby that the mermaid turned? Did he know that if you swiped the card key from Betty at reception that you could get into that locked room outside the bullpen?

"What in there?" Chris queried over beers and pork steaks one night.

"That's the thing; nothing. It was empty. Just a desk with a stupid raven hanging over it and a tiger with missing eyes. Creepy. And dumb."

"Seriously. What a joke."

"No lie."

"Where's the stupid boyfriend?"

"Working. Where else?"

The stupid boyfriend was a constant ass pain. He was never around. He'd met Chris once and been totally ambivalent about his woman running around with another guy. Chris wasn't a jealous guy either, so that part was fine. But he didn't even give a shit when Chris put his arm around Jill at lunch that day to test him and kept it there. Greg was a super douche and a loser.

He figured she'd eventually wise up and cut him loose.

One night, they went about an hour away to Turtle Creek to try the "best chicken wings in three states". They were sitting on barstools, enjoying some pretty good wings, in a little sports bar called the Home Run when Jill saw Greg with his band. She was surprised. She hadn't known he was playing tonight. He'd said he was working. But maybe that meant playing.

He was finishing up a set on stage. He was all long hair and tattoos and tank tops with ragged jeans. Chris eyed him with the sense of a guy. He knew the dude was bad news. But Jill was all about him. And Jill was pretty much his best friend.

So he kept his peace on it.

Greg jumped down from the stage, Jill rose to go to talk to him…and Greg stopped, caught some running little thing with blonde hair and a thong sticking out the back of her jeans, and sucked her face. Jill froze, froze, and sat back down on the stool.

She was pale beneath her beautiful short hair cut. It made her gorgeous face shine. But Greg was sucking the face of some bleach blonde skank with a tramp stamp.

Jill was in a soft blue sweater and little black pants. Chris, in his gray RPD hoodie and jeans that were pretty much rags with stitching missing, rose from his stool. He wiped his mouth with the napkin and ran his tongue around his teeth. No hope for it now, it had to go down this way. His mom wouldn't have had it any other way.

Jill kept sitting there staring. She didn't even move.

Chris rolled his left arm, rolled his right and walked across the bar. He popped his neck as he moved and pushed up his sleeves. Greg with his skinny face and all that greasy hair, stopped sucking face, saw him and froze.

"Shit." Said the stupid boyfriend.

"Yeah, ass face, you're done now. Boo." He didn't just throw the punch, he turned his hip and drove it. The power of it rang down his arm as it hit that startled face. The girl still stuck to him barely had time to scream and scramble out of the way. His arm went numb from fingers to elbow. He shook his hand as Greg went backward, hit the table behind him, and took it down in a spill of glass and booze. The people at the table leapt up in surprise and to avoid disaster.

The other band members came running. Greg, meanwhile, was on his ass on the floor knocked cold. Chris pushed his sleeves up again to face the rest of the motley crew he ran with. "Who's next?"

The other band guys weren't stupid. They didn't want to fight. They kept lifting their hands. Which sucked for him. Because Chris loved the fight. It was what he lived for. And he was so mad for Jill, so angry, that he wanted to kick everyone's ass in that place.

Greg was stirring on the floor. Chris knelt down and grabbed a handful of his shirt. "Who the fuck cheats on a girl like that? You look at her again, I'm going to stuff my fist down your throat, unscrew that two watt bulb that barely powers your brain, and cram it up your ass. You're done with her now."

He tossed him back on the floor and turned back to Jill.

Her eyes were so wide it was like looking at a little anime girl.

He walked toward her, pulled out some cash to toss on the table, grabbed her wrist and pulled her with him. She moved, saying nothing, still wide eyed. She grabbed her coat as she went but didn't put it on.

They left the bar to silence. Admittedly, it had been a helluva show. He had hoped for a better fight, of course, but there wasn't any hope when you were up against a dick with no balls.

They pushed out into the cold air. He could see his breath. Jill said, softly, "You need a coat."

"I'm not cold."

"Chris…"

"Hang on. I'm trying to figure this out."

"What?"

He turned to her. He grabbed her by the front of her shirt and threw her against the wall beside the bar. She gasped and let him. His hands planted beside her face on the wall. And he stood there for a moment.

Oh, she thought, of course. That was always under the surface. That attraction. It was very real and layered in friendship and laughter. And there was THIS, she thought, just there waiting. This thing about him that tempted her. That spill of power or something that beckoned at her like a demon, tempting her to sell her soul for a taste of him. Such a calm man, his rivers ran deep and ragged beneath the surface. He was all physical, all skin and touch. He was always touching her. Little ways, big ways. She liked it. She felt it in her bones when he touched her. And the way he looked at her left her breathless.

She studied the tilt of his face in the moonlight. It was handsome without being annoying. He was so funny. He never let her dwell for long in the bad stuff. He was always doing stupid stuff at work to make her laugh. The whoopee cushion situation was getting out of control of course but that was her own fault. She needed to start checking seats before she sat down.

She whispered, "You big hero."

He laughed a little and looked down at her face. He tilted his head one way, tilted it back the other. He kept looking at her mouth. "I'm sorry."

"Why?" It was surreal in the cold air and the sounds of the music in the bar still muffled behind them. "For what?"

"He was your guy."

"No." She shook her head, her hands slid up under his sweatshirt and touched his bare skin. She felt the goosebumps on him. "No. You're my guy. You just proved that."

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah. What now, big hero?"

"I think I'm kinda into you, Jill Valentine."

"So what are you gonna do about that?"

"Damnit." He cupped her head and neck in one hand and kissed her. Jill looped her arms around him and pulled him closer. His other arm moved right down her back and cupped her ass. The top of her head blew off and landed somewhere out in the snow. He kissed like he meant business. The bottom of her stomach filled with warm and willing want. She slid her hands around his back and into the top of his pants.

He pressed her back into the brick and they tried to eat each other. He lifted her against the brick wall enough that her feet dangled. After a few moments, they both came up for air. "Oh," She said softly, "Oh."

Chris laughed a little, "Yeah..oh is about right."

"Chris…" She caught his face, "This is going to sound crazy. But I don't want to lose you."

"I'm so hard right now I'm about to fuck you through both ours pants. I don't feel very lost."

Jill laughed, loving him, "If we go home and do this, we're gonna fall in love."

"Yeah," he angled her face up and kissed her mouth, soft, "Yeah. Probably. Definitely. Hell."

He kissed her. It was heavy and hot and very sweaty. Freezing cold outside and they were in a bubble of it, protected. Jill leaned back, panting. "Ok..haha…oy. Just…let's look at this objectively."

"Let's look at it naked. Things are better naked."

The hands under his sweatshirt agreed. So she took them off him. "Ok. So maybe you go over there." She signaled to the other wall.

Chris snorted out a laugh and stepped back. "Ok. There. Talk."

"You like one word commands. Eat. Pray. Love."

He laughed again, "Out with it, Jill. What's the dealio?"

"Maybe we go back to your place and we do it."

"Yes. Let's go."

"Chris, be serious." But she laughed.

"I am. Let's go do that. I like you, Jill. I'm not playing games here. I just want to go home, bounce on you naked, and wake up tomorrow for coffee…and do it again. Let's go do that."

"I want to. I want to do all that. But I know what happens after that. We do it. We do it again. We end up in love. Somebody fucks up and gets hurt. And we work together. How does that go down? Awkward and weird and uncomfortable. It all goes bad."

Chris thought about it for minute. "Ok. So I agree…to a point. But why does it go bad? I'm not like other guys, Jill. I'm not asking you to marry me or have my babies or do anything you don't want to do. You don't need to be my girlfriend. You're already kinda my girlfriend anyway. We just don't fuck. So..let's add the fucking to it and go from there."

Jill looked at him in the cold air. "Did you just ask me to go steady?"

He looked confused. "Did I?"

"I don't know? You're so weird."

Chris laughed again, "Jill, I want to see you naked. I wanted that two seconds after I met you. I'm a guy, I pretty much picture everyone naked. You don't want that, no problem. Seriously. I dig you. We're friends. And I don't want to do anything but be friends. You want to add the benefits, I'm down with that too."

"Then what was that kiss?"

"That was adrenaline coupled with being hard up. I haven't gotten laid in months. I need five minutes on the floor with a willing woman. It doesn't have to be you."

"Chris Redfield, you are the least romantic person I've ever met."

"That is unfair. I just punched that dude in there for you."

"You did. That's true." She studied him in the cold air. He lifted a brow at her. She laughed a little.

"Let's go, you weirdo. Take me home."

"Yes, ma'am. I live to serve."

She laughed and sighed at the same time. She'd sorta just broken up with her cheating boyfriend and made out with her best friend. It was an odd day even for Jill Valentine.

They moved to his car and climb in. He fired up the furnace while they shivered. The engine groaned angrily at them. She lifted her brows. Chris' "car" was an old Ford Bronco. It needed help.

"This thing needs shot and put out of its misery."

Chris chuckled and cruised down the road toward Raccoon City. "It's good man. I keep her tuned up."

"She sounds awful. When did you change her oil last?"

He thought about it for a minute. Jill lifted her brows. "Chris Redfield…do you know anything about car maintenance?"

"Some. Mostly my Dad handled that stuff."

"You spoiled little brat!" She laughed so loud it hurt, "I will help you. I will teach you all I know."

"Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope."

"Clearly. A guy who can't change his own oil…the mythical beast."

Chris shrugged, unconcerned. "They make auto clubs for that shit."

"Can you change a tire?"

Chris pursed his lips and considered. "Probably."

"Oh my god," Jill grabbed his arm and laughed for a long moment. He grinned and grabbed her knee, squeezing.

"Watch it Valentine. You're hurting my ego."

"There is SOOOO much to hurt too. You need help. I am here to save you. Don't you worry."

He idled up in front of her building and parked. "Here ya go, Obi-Wan. You're home."

She turned to look at him in the semi-darkness. He grinned at her. She liked his profile. It was doing strange things to her belly. It made her feel funny in her pants too.

"Thanks for punching Greg."

"Yup. He had it coming."

"He did."

"Enlighten me. Skinny, tattooed, and plays the guitar…that flips your switch huh?"

"Sometimes. I like music. It's my thing. The skinny thing is neither here nor there. The tattoos though? Yeah that does it for me."

"Yeah?"

"Yep."

He pulled off the hoodie. Across the top of his chest were the names of his parents. They were woven through the celtic infinity symbol inside of a dreamcatcher and the date of their death was woven along the bottom with feathers to represent, she was sure, the native American heritage and the irish. It was beautiful and told the story of a boy who'd loved his parents. And lost them too soon.

Objectively, he was in good shape. He was lean but edging toward muscle with the right amount of definition in his stomach and arms. The under side of his left wrist said CLAIRE in a rolling scrawl. His sister. He had his sister tattooed on him. He was just that guy.

Jill said, "Well shit."

He lifted his brows at her. "What?"

"You get what matters to you tattooed on your body."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You're THAT guy."

"Which guy is that?"

"The one that loves forever."

He met her eyes in the flicker of streetlight. "When you earn it, yeah."

"Shit. And double shit."

"Is that a spell or something?"

Jill chuckled. She touched the tattoo on his chest and she shook her head. Click click click. And yet a little scary. Because he flipped so many switches and usually with that much instant clicking, the fall to the death was that much harder. Admittedly, she'd never hit on so many levels with a guy before. But she wanted to see him naked now and feel that freight train he'd promised. But she was kinda afraid to see the friendship end. Maybe there was a way to have both.

"No strings?"

"With what?"

She climbed over and straddled him, just like that. His hands slid up her back. Hers cupped his face. "Oh..." he grinned at her in the semi-darkness, "yeah, no strings, Jill. Just us. Why do we have to be anything other than that?"

"Yeah. Why?" She lowered her mouth to kiss him. It was hot and wet and full of tongue. She put her hands on him under his shirt and added some nails. He liked it, grunting, and rubbed her over him.

A long moment passed and she leaned back to look at him, "You want to come upstairs?"

He nodded, "Yeah. I want to come upstairs."

Apparently, they were about to become the thing most men spent a life time chasing. The illustrious gold star of all friendships...fuck buddies.


	3. The Freight Train

**The Devil's Bargain**

* * *

 **Three:**

 **The Freight Train**

* * *

 **Raccoon City, 1997**

* * *

She lead him up the narrow staircase to her room. She wasn't nervous. Which was odd to start with. And even more than that, she believed him. Chris was no bullshit. No drama. He wouldn't make this weird. He'd probably make it amazing.

She opened the door to the room and tossed her keys on the rickety table in the kitchen. The room was small, sparse, and had little pieces of her all over it. It was painted blue on one wall. It had a faded and falling apart sofa in green. It had magazines for guns and girly shirt on the scratched up and sagging coffee table. She had shoes like butterflies marking the line of death from one end to the other.

Jill was disorganized on a good day. Her apartment reflected her I don't give a fuck mind set. She had no family pictures anywhere. She had nothing that said some come from anywhere. Clothes were tossed in random locations. She tossed her coat over a chair in the kitchen.

She popped a tape into her little tape player and turned to look at him. "Ground rules?"

Curious, Chris leaned on the wall to watch her. "Why not?"

"No, I love you. We work together. It complicates things. And Wesker? That creep would probably love to fire us for mixing work and play."

Interesting. He said, "He totally would. Yesterday? I swear he was trying to watch me pee."

"That's not even true."

"God's truth."

Jill chuckled, "You agree to rule one?"

"Ok. No problem. What else?" And now he moved around the apartment, glancing at the things he saw. She had a disassembled piece on the top of a magazine, mid clean. She had a set of expensive lock picks on the kitchen counter. A shoulder holster was hanging by the door.

"No jealousy."

"You gonna follow that rule too?"

She laughed a little. "Yeah I am. You're not mine. We're just friends."

"Friends." He watched her face. She meant it. Interesting.

"Friends that kiss."

"Sure. Friends that kiss. Anything else?"

"Yeah. You want a drink?"

"Yep."

She pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels and went to get glasses. Chris snorted, "Fuck the glasses. Bring the bottle."

"A man after my own heart."

They both took a swig of it. It burned as it went down. The music on the boombox was AC/DC. They were clearly wanting him to shake her all night long. He lifted his brow at her. "Interesting music choice. You setting me up for something here?"

"That's the idea. You want to play this game, Redfield? Could get kinda dangerous."

Oh yeah he did.

"Your ball, Valentine. How do you want to play it?"

Jill said, "Take off your sweatshirt. Stay awhile."

"Fuck buddies?"

"You ok with that?"

Chris laughed, loudly. He tossed his sweatshirt off and shrugged, "Is there a guy in Raccoon City who'd say no?"

"I'm sure there is."

"He's probably an asshole. Or an idiot. Or both."

Jill chuckled. She shucked off her top. He jerked his belt free of his pants. Jill laughed and kicked off her boots. Chris threw his off toward the kitchen.

Jill pulled off her pants and kicked them aside. She faced him in her bra and panties.

Chris dropped his jeans and stood there in his boxers.

She was perfect, he thought, she was all big tits and curvy hips and long legs. Hourglass, they called that. She was the perfect hourglass. He couldn't wait to get his mouth on her. He bet she tasted like wet, hot, slick need.

Apparently they were doing an eye for an eye. Jill watched him, "What's this game?"

"Your game. Your move."

"Whatever I want?"

"Whatever you want."

Jill reached to the clasp on her bra and released it, sliding it down her arms to the floor. And there it was, she thought, there was the fire. It flickered bright in those blue eyes. They locked eyes and held them. He would always be the guy that got it, he simply got it. He let her make the moves. Her nipples were already hard and excited. He noticed and she was very aware of it.

It was something to stand on opposite sides of the room and face each other mostly naked. Chris kicked aside his jeans and pulled off his socks. Jill laughed a little. Shrugging, she pulled her panties down her legs.

Chris shrugged too and copied her. They both stood there looking at each other. Chris said, finally, "This is the best friendship I've ever had."

Jill laughed, loudly and nodded, "It is. Food, booze, and fucking. Best friends forever?"

"I'm thinkin so. I had a best friend in junior high who had a pool. This is better."

"Yeah? You got wet in a pool though."

"I'll get wet in you too."

That worked. She was turned on. She'd been almost there. The dirty talk finished her off. She eyed him. He waited but he was very, very ready for her. He was also HUGE. And it made her breath come fast and frightened and excited.

"Your dick is enormous."

Chris laughed, delighted. "I warned you. You're gonna figure out I don't lie one of these days. Want to back out, Valentine?"

"Please. I love a challenge. I did think you were flirting though and maybe exaggerating a little. Clearly not. You planning to be gentle?"

"Are you kidding? I'm going to rip you in half."

Oh dear lord. She nearly came just thinking about it. His flirting in the RPD, not flirting she realized. He'd meant it. He was hung and had probably made girls bowlegged his whole life. How was he not married and raising eight hundred babies by now? He was the total package WITH the total package.

"Last chance to decline, buddy. No hard feelings."

"I'm planning lots of hard feelings, Redfield. And you promised a lot of things. Not sure you're gonna live up to that talk."

"Try me. I'm a man of my word."

"Oh yeah?"

"Always?"

"Always."

"Freight train?" She asked sweetly.

"You got it, dollface."

"Prove it."

"Done." Chris moved toward her. He grabbed her and threw her against the wall. She hit hard and gasped, losing her breath. He didn't stop. He filled one hand with one of those tits he'd wanted to see and didn't give her a chance to change her mind.

Freight train, he'd said. He'd meant it. He cupped his hand over her groin and looked at her in surprise.

She gasped, moving against his hand. "What?" It was breathy and soft.

He said, with wonder, "You're already wet."

"Yeah. I'm a big fan of the dirty talk."

"Obviously. You're the best friend I ever had."

And she laughed, loving him a little.

He thrust his fingers into her and kept her against the wall while he shoved her up the edge of pleasure. He didn't just give her an orgasm…nope. He forced her to one whether she wanted it or not. It was crude and almost too dirty. Jill was laughing and dying at the same time. That's what sex looked like when no one was looking for a relationship. She didn't think he was lying now. Nope. Prove it, she'd said.

He caught her hands and planted them above her head. His other hand played with her breasts like he meant business. He stroked them, plucked them, and put his teeth on them. She gasped, a little insane from it.

He said, "Why do you dress like you do?" Harsh, hoarse. She met his eyes.

"What?"

"You cover yourself up so no one looks. Why? You're fucking perfect."

Oh. She felt herself blush a little. And she charmed the hell out of him with it. He rolled one of those tits in his palm to watch her feel it. She was model beautiful, true, but it wasn't that. He'd never met a woman like her in his life. She was spark and flame and fire and fun. He wanted to be her fuck buddy like he'd probably never wanted anything else.

"I'm not. Really. I'm not."

"Whatever. I'm looking at you, Valentine. I'm seeing a lot of perfect." Chris skimmed the backs of his fingers over her taut belly. He fluttered his fingers against the creamy heat of her. He watched her eyes cross a little and laughed, "Yeah. Perfect."

"Obviously not for Greg."

"I told you that guy was a turd. What a stupid bastard. Thank god. Or you wouldn't be here with me."

Jill watched his face and couldn't think of any place else she'd rather be in that moment. How did he do that? Talk so simply and look at her like that? Like she was something to eat.

Chris put his tongue to one nipple and watched it crest, excited for him. He added, gruffly, "Thank god for Greg the stupid bastard."

She laughed and it ended on a gasp as he suckled her and played that hand between her legs almost gently. She shivered, moving against his hand that bound her to the wall. He shook his head, letting go of her nipple so her breast bounced a little.

"Not you. Not yet. Me."

"I thought this was my game."

"It's your game. But it's my move. So you wait."

Oh she liked that. She liked that a lot. She gasped a little as he thrust a finger into her. And he liked this, he thought, he liked her being wet and ready. He liked her passion. It was good to be with a woman who didn't wait for him to give her all the right moves.

Freight train, he'd said, he was that. But he was also unexpectedly gentle. He lowered his mouth and kissed her, giving her his tongue in a rhythm that rocked her even as he stroked her. He popped their mouths apart and watched her face.

She shivered from the intensity of it. "What now?" It was a whisper from her.

"Still me. You ready?"

"For?"

"This. All of it."

"Oh yeah. I'm ready."

"I'm a man of my word, Jill. Fair warning."

He dropped to his knees and threw her leg over his shoulder and put his mouth on her. It was so unexpected that she couldn't do anything but come apart where she stood. He wasn't a liar, she thought desperately, he ate pussy like he was born to do it.

He was tongue and teeth and madness. He licked her and lapped her and left her sweating. He knew what he was doing, no lie. He drove his fingers into her when she bowed and sucked her clit like he was trying to own it. When she started to collapse on her one shaky leg, he caught her around the hips and put her on the floor. But he didn't stop.

She drove her fingers into his hair and bucked against his face. Those ten foot legs of hers were over his shoulders and shaking like a leaf. He laughed against her a little and it felt like a vibrator inside her body. When she was close and making sounds like an animal, he flipped her over and jerked her up on all fours and went at her again from behind. His tongue was like a demon, thrusting and fucking her body like some kind of evil being. It wanted her to come screaming around it while he buried his face in the taste of her and made her take more of it.

She bucked, bucked, making sounds that had him so hard he was pretty sure his dick was going to fall off and land on the floor. He rose up and filled her full of his fingers, grabbing her hip to drive her back on his hand. Freight train was right, she thought desperately, as she hit the edge of the orgasm he was forcing on her and burst free of the other side.

Jesus, Chris thought madly, she was a wild and crazy thing. She wanted it like a guy, hot and hard and endless. She let go like a porn star, screaming, and slapping that perfect ass back against his hand while he drove his fingers into the heat of her. He'd never touched a girl like her before. One, never, ever one that wasn't even a ten but a twelve, and never one that made him pretty sure he was going to never get enough of her.

She came wet and hot around his hand, gasping, cursing and shoving against his questing digits like a thing possessed. He felt her body suck his fingers in and hold them there, spasming and making him crazy for her. He knew he was in trouble the second he'd touched her of course but he didn't care. Didn't give a rats ass about any of that. He didn't dwell in regret and he didn't worry about what came next. Ever.

He pulled his fingers free of her wet, hot sheath and looped an arm around her waist. He picked her up, still jerking and twitching, and carried her with one arm and her back to his front. He carried her to the bedroom. Which was little more than a mattress on the floor.

He tossed her on the bed and came down on top of her. She grabbed at him and yanked his mouth to her. They shared the taste of her between them like a heady thing. He held her down with a hand on her collarbone and drove his fingers into her again, faster, harder, deeper.

Jill scrambled her legs open wider, shaking and bowing. Her hand fisted around him and jerked, bringing a grunt from him that made her laugh. He was impossibly thick, almost scary thick. And she liked it. Loved it. And craved it.

She shoved him to his back on the mattress and put her mouth on him. He was nearly ridiculously big so she worked for each inch she won to get him in her mouth. No wonder he was so arrogant and cocky about his success with women. He had a porn star cock and it was nearly as beautiful as it was meaty and hungry for her. Mr. Cocky indeed.

He watched her go to town on his body. She was good at it, probably the best that had ever done it. She didn't try to take too much but she used tongue and lips and the wet of her mouth to make him insane. She put her teeth to him, just a little, and he nearly came in her mouth.

Delighted, he laughed, and pulled her mouth off him. "Not like that, Valentine."

"Why not?"

"Not yet." He threw her to her back on the bed and made her laugh. She opened her legs and he rose to his knees between them. He ran his hands down the inside of her thighs and thumbed the wet heat of her. She gasped, eyes flaring. He rubbed the head of himself against the creamy heat of her and shoved her legs open wider to watch himself do it.

She laughed a little, watching his face.

"What?"

"How do you do that?"

"What's that?" He dragged himself down her slit and she lost her train of thought and jerked toward him. He laughed now, hoarsely.

"Look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you're going to fuck me stupid."

"I am. I promised I'd rip you in half. You ready?"

"God yes."

He rolled off the bed and surprised the hell out of her. She blinked as he left the room. She heard the clock tick over the bed. And back he came. He climbed onto the bed with a condom in his hand.

Oh. Goodness. He was…a gentleman? Something. It touched her that he'd thought of it.

She said, "Should I be insulted?"

He rubbed himself over her body again and she gasped, shivering.

"Why? I'm a good boy."

"Me too. I'm not dirty, Chris."

He glanced at her face, surprised. "I didn't think you were…well you kinda are."

"I just mean..I'm clean."

"Ah. Yeah. Me too. This is so you don't get fat and pregnant. I can't fuck you fat and pregnant. Well I still would because I'm a good dude like that."

Jill laughed, loving him a little. "What a guy."

He slid the condom on and rubbed himself over her. Admittedly, it didn't have the same intensity as before but she appreciated the effort. He pushed a little into her body and brought her eyes flaring wide.

"Yeah. That's usually the first reaction." He was trembling but held himself still. He caught her hands and put them above her head, holding her down. "I'll take it easy."

She shivered, watching his face. She said, softly, "Don't."

"What?"

"Freight train. Remember?"

"You're not ready for me."

"Really?" She eyed his face, feeling the pump and thrill and killing roll of want there. He was nearly painfully good looking. Those eyes were all kinds of blue and green. "Try me."

"I'll hurt you." And he liked the idea of it. She saw that all over him. He wanted to hurt her. And she wanted it too.

She whispered, "Promises promises."

He let go of her wrists and grabbed her throat, thumb stroking the soft skin between chin and neck. "You are a dirty little thing, Jill Valentine."

"Yeah I am. Stop talking and fuck me."

She was the best friend he'd ever had.

He took her at her word. He drove himself into her so hard, so fast and deep, that it was just pain. It was really just pain for her. It ripped a scream from her mouth and a grunt from him. He slapped against her ass with a shivering, meaty sound. Her hand scrambled at him and tried to push him off and out of her without her even knowing it.

The second she realized she was shoving him away, she opened her legs wider and grabbed his ass instead, rolling him inside of her body. The pain blended on the pleasure and poised there, perfect and sinful. His face was half dark greed and half sorry he'd hurt her. It was a wonderful combination.

She rasped, "Freight train. Do it."

Chris dropped down on top of her, bracketed her head with his arms in a push up motion, and plowed himself into her. At first, it was all sharp and terrible pain. It raped her raw and had her screaming beneath him. She tried to push him off and he slapped her hands to the side and finally shoved them over head. And he took her at her word. He didn't stop.

Somewhere about the fourth thrust, the pain hit the pleasure center in her body and mashed. She rose to meet him, taking the thick meat of him into her body like a desperate thing. The wetness of her eased his way as she raced toward orgasm. He hammered her so hard it was like running ten miles at full speed. When she was close and screaming, he eased out and then eased back in, prolonging it for her. She ached, pulsing around him, her body wanted a good deep dicking, he thought objectively, but her brain was telling her it was too much.

So he eased the pace and pleased them both with that too.

He let go of her hands and they slid over his back, holding on to him. He rolled his face to her and kissed her, slow and deep. Her mouth sucked his tongue and her body sucked his dick. She had him from both ends and stole his soul with it.

Liar, his brain said, you're not looking for friends with benefits. You are so into this girl it's pathetic. What's next? You going to write poetry on the bathroom stall for her?

He eased back to look at her. She held his eyes as he plunged into her, rode out and back in again. He watched her face while he fucked her, steady and deep. He went all in, like he was known to do, he went all in with each thrust. She took him, every inch, and met him thrust for thrust. She was amazing and beautiful and fucked like a guy without coy smiles or flirtation. She was fucking perfect.

Chris felt her clenched around him, hard and fast and he increased the rhythm, driving her into the bed while she came. She came apart in his arms, bucking and sucking him into her body like a well paid whore. He came just from looking at her, watching her gasp and bow and feeling her hump and jerk around him. He forced her to hold his eyes while he came and while he did he hated the condom that stood between them. He wanted to see her eyes while he filled her up. It was the first time he'd ever felt that way before.

And he pictured her fat and pregnant. And he liked that too.

Shit, he thought, so it was gonna be like that for him apparently.

She gasped, twitching beneath him. He pumped once more into her and collapsed on top of her. She grunted, laughing a little.

They were both so soaked in sweat she thought they'd get stuck together that way.

He said, against her neck, while her body let her know how sore she was going to be, "You are my best friend in the world."

Jill laughed, letting her arms flop to the sides. "Same. Jesus, you weren't lying."

"I seldom do."

"I won't walk right for a week."

"That's the idea."

"How in the hell has no girl snapped you up yet?"

"I've been waiting for you, clearly."

She blinked and he leaned back, grinning at her. She rolled her eyes. He pulled out of her and she gasped, feeling the soreness in her belly and groin. It was good. It was really good. But it was going to ache like hell for days.

He went into the bathroom to get rid of the condom. It was interesting that she didn't like the condom. She always used them. Always with lovers. Why did she not like it with him? It was the dirty factor, true, and the dirty thoughts about feeling all that cock inside of her bare and hot…but what else? What was it?

He came back into the bedroom and leapt on the bed, bouncing down beside her. She rolled to face him. He lifted hand and tucked her sweaty hair behind her ear. His hand lingered and stroked her cheek.

She lifted a brow at him. "You getting mushy on me?"

"Nope. That's a negative on the sweet stuff, Valentine."

"Good. That would go against the rules."

"True."

They stayed that way for a long moment. Finally, Chris said, "I should go. The rooster crows early and demands we go to work with Captain Creep Ass."

"That's very true. He's got us doing that simulation shit again tomorrow too. What's the deal with that? What does he think we're going to be fighting? Drunks are seldom that good in a fight. Do we need to do karate to kick their asses?"

"Apparently. Fuck the karate stuff. Point, punch, shoot. That's my thing."

"You're all subtle and class, Red. Seriously. But you should stay here."

He liked the nick name. It made him feel funny in places. "Yeah?"

"Sure. Big bed, small girl..stay. It's cool."

"Sounds good to me, Jilly Bean. I'm lazy. And clearly my car is a garbled piece of shit that may explode at any moment."

Jill laughed and rose. "Shower?"

"Together? Is that against the rules?"

"Don't think so. Pretty sure the rules are flexible about showering."

"Right on."

They showered easily. And laughed. Her shower was very small and not really made for two people. He ended up falling out and taking the curtain with him. He was not a man given to grace, clearly. Point, punch, shoot was about as graceful as he got. She was still laughing when they changed the sweaty sheets on her bed and got in it.

They fell asleep facing each other. He slept on his back, arms cocked and hands up. She watched him, kinda crushing on him. And she slipped her hand into his to see. Even in sleep, he curled his around hers and held on.

Interested, she shifted closer. He opened one eye, smiled, and pulled her over. She curled against his side and wrapped her arm over his chest. She slid her leg over his and curled around his thigh. He liked that and smiled. She fell asleep with her ear over his heart.

The little broken window beside her bed pushed a cold breeze of them as they lay and told Chris, as he drifted into sleep holding her, that something was coming. He was just hoping it was going to be Jill Valentine...again and again.

* * *

Somewhere in the bowels of Raccoon City, evil had started to breed. It was, at first, something simple and curious. It was a thought that became a nightmare.

The man sitting at the computer had their pictures sitting side by side. He was rolling a paperweight in his palm and considering. The research and data was complete and interesting. It had them nearly neck and neck in terms of skill. The boy, of course, was better dedicated to the cause that he would drive them toward. The girl? She had a darkness in that was waiting for him to guide it toward the surface.

He would use her to destroy the boy. And use the data collected to serve the greater good. And it was time to start the ball rolling on the master plan.

And so Albert Wesker did, what Albert Wesker was known to do, he instituted an outbreak…and sentenced a city to death…with a single push of a button.


	4. BFFs Forever

**The Devil's Bargain**

* * *

 **Four:**

 **BFF's Forever**

* * *

 **Raccoon City, 1997**

* * *

She should have known, before she'd even sat down, that she was going to sit down on a whoopee cushion. It was the entire nature of her relationship with him. He was jokes guy. She sat down in her chair, the sound of flatulence split the air, and Brad Vickers let out a giggle.

Jill wasn't sure how she felt about Vickers. He was a wienie. Worse than a wienie, he was a spaz. He panicked about everything. He panicked about being late, about being on time, about worrying about being late when he was on time. He was a mess. How had he gotten into STARS? It was insane.

He was a skinny guy with a sallow complexion and brown eyes that reminded her a hound dog. He always looked either sad or confused. It was odd that the man who'd hired them, digging through their myriad of skills and attributes, had hired such a coward.

The other guy in the room was Barry Burton. Burton was handsome and rough around the edges. He was the oldest of their crew and had a wife and a couple of rugrats to boot. Barry was a good dude. He was funny and sharp and clearly dedicated. If a little bit stuff shirt sometimes during missions. He was their weapons guy. You needed advice on guns or grenades, you went to Barry.

Brad was their pilot. He was good at that. Honestly. But Chris could have flown the damn plane or the chopper too. What did they need him for?

Joseph Frost was their maintenance supervisor. What did that mean? It meant if it was broke, Joe fixed it. He just fixed it. Like MacGuyer. Or Batman. He was something. He was tall, skinny, and had the longest nose on the team. Which is why they called him Pinocchio. Or, affectionately, the Nose for News as he was also a terrible gossip.

Jill was the breaking and entering specialist and also known for her rear defense. She was pretty good with a gun but hell on wheels with hand to hand. She got them in, got them out, and opened anything along the way. She was sneaky, quick, and moved like a shadow.

Chris, clearly, was the point man. The door needed kicked in, he kicked it in. He was aces with a gun. She'd never seen anyone better. Not once. Well maybe once. She'd gone down to watch the rookies training once during their interviews to join the RPD. There was one kid that didn't just hit it, he hit three times in the same damn hole. Clearly he was getting the job.

Chris was stoic to the point of being called anything from a stick in the mud to being ribbed constantly about being as boring as a robot. But Jill liked it. She liked his shift from professional to personal too. He was her best friend. And was always doing stupid shit to make her laugh.

On this particular day, they were being trained on computer simulations. Totally boring shit. It consisted of using the crotchety old equipment in the office to pretend to do the stuff and really just play Pong. Or Tetris.

Jill had mistakenly gone to the bathroom and come back to find out she'd been whoopied…again. Of course.

She gave Chris bland eyes from across the desk.

He coughed and sipped his coffee.

She said, "Red, I swear to god. If I see this thing under my ass one more time…I'm gonna cram it up yours."

"I didn't do it."

"You liar. You're a terrible liar."

"I have my moments."

Brad, watching the television close to them, said, "You guys seeing this shit? What's the deal man?"

Chris glanced over, tossing the little hackey sack in his hand up and down. "What?"

"People dying like flies. They're saying eaten or something. Gross."

"Cannibalism in Raccoon. Awesome."

Jill leaned forward and said, softly, "It's probably Wesker eating them."

Chris snorted. "No doubt. Creep."

They were trying to find Wesker less creepy. They were. But his intensity was frightening. He was impressive on the mat and clearly knew his shit about tactics. He kept them on their toes and didn't let them slack off. The only reason they were goofing off today was that he was out of town for the day to Wombat Junction interviewing candidates for the police force with Chief Irons. They respected him, you couldn't NOT respect him, he was the most stand up person you could ever meet. He didn't lie, didn't bullshit, and didn't bother to pretend if he didn't like you. He didn't like Brad…so why was he still here!? It was a mystery. Jill wasn't a hundred percent sure that he actually LIKED anyone. Truth be told.

He was an odd man. His dedication to his team was unquestionable though. He wouldn't let them fail, she was sure of that. She just wasn't sure why he had to be so creepy.

Joe was trying to finish the simulation. The computer kept dropping dead on him. "This thing is a piece of shit dude."

"Seriously."

"I'd like to see Umbrella drop some money on it. Instead of making fountains that squirt water out of a mermaid's twat."

Chris chuckled. "Speak for yourself. I'd pay good money to see that."

Jill said, "You'd pay good money to see anybody's twat."

Brad guffawed. Barry shook his head, rolling his eyes.

"It's my prerogative for having a penis."

"Pfft."

Barry queried, "Do mermaids have twats?"

Chris said, "They must. That's the tuna reference right? It comes from mermaid twats."

Jill thought: life working with men. One half sexual harassment, one half sexism. She went about trying to get the programming on her computer to run the simulation. Admittedly, it was a piece of shit.

Brad was still watching the news. "Dude! This guy has no FACE. That's sick."

Chris had started to take a nap in his seat. Jill waited for the right opportunity and kicked his chair. He spiraled his arms and down he went, clattering to the floor and bringing the laughter with him. He gave her a look from the floor and she twitched her lips.

"It's like that huh?"

"Oh yeah."

"Ok Valentine. Game on."

They set about trying to out prank each other. The whoopie cushion was everywhere. She couldn't escape it. He froze her stapler. She put super glue on his phone. The next time she opened her drawer, it burst with confetti and scared the shit out of her. She put peanut butter in his shoes. He emptied her gas tank on her bike and she had to walk home. She stole his car battery. He wrote her phone number on the bathroom stall in the men's room of the RPD. She couldn't shake the phone calls for weeks. She changed his screen saver on his computer to gay porn.

He was so amused, while everyone laughed, that he said, "Keeping it."

She loved him a little.

The first date she went on after Greg, he showed up and crashed it. He hung out, embarrassed her date, and ruined it. She sat there after the date had flown the coop and looked at him.

"Why?"

"Why not? Besides, that dude? Turd."

She laughed and they ate pizza.

He had a date with Cindy from the bar. Jill showed up and did karaoke. She made out at the table with some guy. Cindy was amused. Chris was…kinda. He was also kinda jealous. But this went against the rules so he said nothing.

He said, "Why?"

"Why not?"

She put his picture on all the RPD practice targets. Barry blasted the shit out of his face. Chris said, "Really?"

Barry was grinning, "RIP Red."

Chris had a singing telegram show up while they were training. It sang a horrible song to her about her tits and her blue eyes. In front of Wesker. In front of Albert Wesker.

Everyone laughed. Except for her of course. And Wesker.

Wesker never laughed. He was stoic to the point of being scary. He smiled all the time, sure, but it was…odd. He was a great leader. Hands down, he knew his shit. He was commanding and supportive and encouraging. He was hell on wheels at hand to hand combat.

One day, he finally went up against Jill.

Everyone from Bravo to Alpha came in to see it. It was well known that Jill was the master of the mat. She kicked everyone's ass on it. Chris stuck his fingers in his mouth to whistle for her. She laughed.

Wesker circled her, in full uniform of course. Jill was wearing her grey RPD sweats. She had two stubby ponytails and a headband on. Wesker stopped and beckoned.

She moved, snake quick. They slapped shins, grabbed forearms, and she spun left. She rolled his shoulder, rotated his arm, and cocked it over her shoulder. Her foot came down, drove into his knee, and put her hip into him. She tossed him.

There was cheering from around the room.

Wesker rolled through it and was on his feet…smiling.

Jill smiled back.

She rushed him again and he spun right, hooked arms with her, rolled her over his back and flipped. She would have gone down on her face but she hooked up under him, hit one knee, and swept her leg back to take his out from under him. He answered it by rolling across her back and leveraging both her arms up behind her shoulders.

There was booing now. Jill chuckled and threw a reverse head butt at him. He feinted back and she broke the hold, spinning out and down. She foot swept him again and grabbed his arm, rolling back and putting her feet into his stomach.

She flipped him up and out. He did a fancy spin in the air and landed in a crouch. And apparently he'd had enough playing around. He rushed her now and drove her back with a series of short arm jabs, punches, and a series of kicks. She pivoted, blocked, and spun a second ahead but kept on the defensive.

Jill finally went into a double back flip and had the room roaring with delight. She landed, went into a cartwheel, and came out in a reverse roundhouse. He blocked, caught her leg, and dropped an elbow into her thigh. She relented, avoiding the blow but losing her feet.

She went down, came up in an uppercut, and he blocked it. He jerked her arm, delivered two insulting slaps to her face, and threw her away kicking her in the ass as she went. More booing and Jill could feel the fire of embarrassment. The bastard.

She'd never live it down if she lost here. She glanced at Chris who winked at her. Amused, she faced her Captain.

"Is that all, Jill? Surely not."

Jill rushed him. She went into a front tuck, spun low, swept his feet out and buffalo kicked him from one hand. He went over onto his back. She straddled him, rolled him over and put him on his face. She jerked his arm up behind his back.

The stomping of feet and cheering was loud in the gymnasium. Really loud. Apparently beating up your boss was popular in Raccoon City.

Wesker smiled from the floor. How easy, he thought with amusement, to lead the rats to the feeder bar and give them what they wanted. Earning their respect and trust came at so little a cost for what would come next. To follow him, they had to trust him. Letting Jill Valentine win was an easy loss for him to absorb. If they underestimated him, he would be able to destroy them so easily.

He said, "I concede."

And the room went wild.

Jill was slapped on the back and punched in the arm. She laughed, loving the attention. Who was the little wall flower now, she mused? The girl no one had paid attention to all her life was getting it all now. It felt good and rewarding.

She shook hands with Wesker. And again, she felt him study her. She felt like she'd let him learn her somehow. And she was both impressed with the intelligence on his face and a little uneasy.

She went to shower off. And her soap was hanging from the ceiling fan in the locker room.

She twisted her lips to the side and chortled.

She cut holes in all of Chris' RPD sweats. He came out to practice one day with a giant hole in his crotch. At least he was wearing underwear, she mused. Or the whole station would know all about Mr. Cocky. He'd probably like that though, the dirty pervert. He wasn't embarrassed at all by it. He winked at her and had her laughing.

He was a terrible lecher. And she kinda loved him.

Ok she really loved him. He was her best friend. The brightest spot in a bad day. He kept her laughing.

She was sitting on the bleachers one day and a couple of the female officers sat down with her. The tallest one, Heather, was pretty and model slim. She said, no bullshit, "You mind if I ask him out?"

And Jill said, "Nope."

"Cool."

She kinda did. Which bothered her.

She got evicted one day. Which sucked. And he let her move in. No questions asked. She took over his second bedroom in the tiny house he was renting. It was set up for Claire obviously when she was home from school.

"This ok?"

"Yep. She's never here anyway. Breezes in and breezes out. You gonna pay half the rent?"

"Of course."

"It's yours."

She was a total mess to live with. But he tolerated it. He was bad, Jill was awful. She dropped clothes everywhere. She never cared. She didn't rinse the sink after she brushed her teeth. Somewhere in the great beyond, his mother was dying. She was disorganized on a good day and a right mess on a bad one. She was always losing her keys. He found them in the freezer and once in the toilet.

He held them up to her with the tongs from the barbecue pit.

"What?"

"Really?"

"I dropped them I guess shaving my legs this morning."

"Why were you holding them when shaving?"

"So I didn't lose them."

"…how'd that work out for you?"

"Clearly I had to walk to work."

Chris snorted and dropped the keys in soapy water to disinfect them. He was the only person that cleaned. Ever. She was lazy and sloppy and didn't care. She left dishes in the sink soaking in water. She never made her bed. The army guy in him was appalled.

She fixed stuff like a champ though. Nothing stayed broke with Jill Valentine around. She was Mrs. Fix it. Leaks, cracks, lumps and bumps she was a wizard with a toolbox. She taught him to change his oil and his tire. He taught her how to tackle and bake a cake.

She kept buying girly shit and leaving it places though. He came in the bathroom one day to her bras hanging over the shower door. It was the pink one with the frills that set him off.

He came out of the bathroom with it.

She glanced up, painting her toe nails. "What?"

"What's this?"

"…that is a brassiere Christopher. It's meant to contain your breasts."

"Smartass. Seriously. When do you wear stuff like this?"

"…I feel like I'm missing something here. I wear it under my clothes. Obviously."

"No. You don't wear girly stuff Jill. You have three bras and they are all sports bras. What's this for?"

"Oh. OH. That's my date night bra. I have a date tonight." She went back to painting her toe nails.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Kevin Ryman? You know him. He's taking me out."

"Oh." Hmm. He thought about that for a minute. It was interesting that he didn't like it. Jill was his dude with tits friend. They'd only fucked around that one time and she hadn't come running back for more. So he was figuring there was somebody else but she was always with him too. So he just figured she wasn't dating.

Jill glanced up at him. "Is he a turd?"

"Nah. He's ok. Stupid hair though. Girly."

"Pfft. You always say that."

"You always date skinny girls with stupid hair. It's your thing."

"My thing?"

"Yeah. You know…floofy guys."

"What is "floofy"?"

"Pretty boys. It's your thing."

He carried the bra back into the bathroom and hung it back up. It was lacy and clearly a push up bra. He didn't like it. But he did. He did like it. He didn't like Kevin Ryman seeing her in it though.

Jill came down the hallway. "Expound on pretty boys."

"You know. The type that have hair like Ryman. And play guitar. And talk fancy. It's your thing."

"…I don't have a thing, Red. Seriously?"

"You do. A type. You always date the same type. It's your thing." He went into his bedroom to gather up his laundry.

"I don't. I really don't."

"Sure, Jilly Bean. If you say so. I'm surprised you don't like Wesker. He's your type."

"Now you're just being mean. How is that even true?"

"He's fancy. And smart. And probably went to an Ivy League school or something. You like to date guys that come from or have money usually. Or the alternative to that is you date ones that are in a rock band and look like Axel Rose. It's your thing. I bet you'd date some kid with a roman number after his name. John Washington the fourth. Or something. You like preppy, girly, and pretty. It's your thing."

"….I feel vaguely insulted."

"Don't. It's your thing."

"What's your thing then?"

"You tell me."

"More boobs than brains."

He lifted a brow at her and shrugged. "Male prerogative. Depends on what I'm looking for in you. You click on multiple levels, we're going out. You don't? I'll let you take a ride on the freight train anyway. I'm a generous man."

"Lecher."

Chris chuckled and went down to the laundry room in the basement to wash clothes. He didn't want her dating. It was a hard pill to swallow. And went against the rules. He was into her, always had been. She was the coolest chic he'd ever met.

He started the washer and changed loads into the dryer. The basement was musty and smelled like it might be leaking somewhere. He'd have Jill come down and find the problem later.

He came back upstairs to find her coming out of her bedroom. And she was in date mode, clearly. He stopped and had to adjust his brain from his dick.

She was gorgeous. She was always gorgeous. But she was dread dead dressed up. She was in some little blue thing that might have been a dress if it didn't look like underwear. Strapless, tight, and silky looking. She had on little knee high boots with it and her hair was sleek around her face. She was smearing on eyeliner.

She glanced at him. "Good?"

Nope...incredible.

He spun her around and put her against the wall of the bathroom. She made some sound and he speared his tongue into her mouth. She gasped and opened for him. He tilted her head back, driving his tongue into her mouth until she was breathless.

Freight train, she thought desperately, good lord.

He hooked an arm around her waist and threw her on the sink. She gasped, knocking bottles and toothpaste around. His hands were under her skirt and pulling her panties off. She kicked her legs, fast and laughing.

She tried to find something to grab onto as he filled her full of his driving fingers. She made little mewling cries and grabbed his shoulders. He sent her over the edge humping and gasping. He pulled her over his shoulder and carried her out of the bathroom. He gave her a hard smack on the ass and stole her breath before he dumped her on the couch in the living room. She scrambled her legs open.

Chris ripped open the condom in his hand, slipped it on, and pushed into her. She screamed, a little madly, and bucked toward him. Jesus, he thought, she was all he'd thought about for weeks now. That desperate fucking of hers. It was his poltergeist. He kept picturing eating her out under the desk at work. It was driving him insane.

He wasn't as hard this time. Not like the first time. He was smoother now and gentler. He wanted her but he didn't want to hurt her. He grabbed her hips under that little excuse for a dress and angled her up to him.

Oh, she thought desperately, it was different this time. He rolled in her, he rolled inside of her. The big was still something to hold inside of her but it was smoother, wetter, and deeper. He didn't hurt her, he filled her up. She balled her fists in his sweatshirt and held on to him. He rolled in, he rolled out and she was nearly insane from it. He started throwing it down to her faster and harder. She was open and ready for him. Her body milked him, begging for more.

She felt him thumb the apex of her body and she went around him, gasping, and jerking. He hooked a hand around the back of her neck and dragged her up to his mouth. They kissed, wet, tongues and sucking. She pulled him down, pushed him over, and climbed onto his lap. He wanted to warn her about this angle and the pain of it but she didn't look like she was in pain. She sunk down on him and blew the top of his head off.

Jill fucked like she fought, all skill and movement. She rode fast and hard and crazy on him. He didn't last long enough to give a shit and grunted, shoving her down on him. She grabbed his face to kiss him until he couldn't breathe.

He laughed, breathless.

She fell to the side, legs splayed. He sat on the couch and laughed. Jill echoed it.

"What the fuck?"

"Sorry. It's the dress, kid. The dress did it. I was already half up your ass this morning in that nightgown you weren't really wearing."

"You not getting any?"

"Nope."

"Why didn't you just say something?"

He glanced at her. "Is that part of the rules?"

"It's part of the deal, Red. I'm not in a relationship. Come get some."

"Yeah?"

"Sure."

"Cool." He rose and pulled up his pants.

She twisted her lips to the side and sat up. "You usually run around the house without underwear on, big guy?"

"Sometimes. Who cares? I'm at home."

He left the living room. She sat there, shivering. And she was pretty sure she was going to spend the rest of the night thinking about him without anything on under those three hundred year old sweats. Soft. They were soft and smooth. Her body told her that he was NOT soft and smooth.

It ached in that way she liked.

She was a little afraid she might start to crave him a little. But really? It was harmless. After all, they were buddies.

What was the danger in that?


	5. The Rules of the Fuck Buddy

**The Devil's Bargain**

* * *

 **Five:**

 **The Rules of the Fuck Buddy**

* * *

 **Raccoon City, 1997**

* * *

Jill went on her date. She came home around midnight. He was playing Playstation in the living room. Jill glanced at the screen.

"What is this?"

"Some zombie shit. It sucks. The acting is terrible. And the controls are clunky."

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah. Utter crap. But it's funny. And you get to blow off heads. So that rules. Date go good?"

"Nah. Just friends. He's nice. Just not my type."

"Oh. Skinny and girly?"

"Kiss ass, Redfield."

She went down the hallway. He chuckled and went back to playing the game. Stupid game. But killing zombies was a blast. Who believed in that kind of stupid shit though? Zombies. Ridiculous.

Chris was blasting his way through a hoard of the undead when he saw movement in the hallway. He glanced up, glanced back at the game, "You want some dinner? I had some chicken wings. There's some left in the fridge."

"Not what I'm hungry for."

He glanced over. And his brain fell out his ass.

She was leaning on the wall…stark naked. The hallway light was soft and put shadows in all the right and wrong places. She was tits and ass and torture, clearly. He hadn't even set down the controller.

She said, "You hungry?"

"Starving."

"Come get your chow on, big guy."

And he laughed. He laughed so hard. He loved her. It was official. He loved her. Damnit.

He was still holding the controller. What the fuck for? He tossed the controller and chased her laughing down the hallway.

The next day at work was a mess. Somebody had set off a bomb in the minimart on the corner of Johnson Avenue. They had to go in and clean up the mess. Total nutso disaster. Three dead and multiple injuries. It was the third such bombing in as many weeks.

Tired and dirty, they came home from work and fell onto the couch to sleep. She woke him up on top of him. He laughed and threw her to her back on the floor. They spent the next twenty minutes getting even dirtier. It was utterly disgusting and dirty. She kinda loved him.

The whoopie cushion reappeared. It cropped up during a meeting with both teams and Chief Irons. She moved to get a cup of water while Irons went over slides from the recent cannibal murders that were popping up around the city. She was looking at the reports from the coroner. She sat down.

The whoopie cushion let out a fart so loud in the quiet room that it was almost like a shot. Irons stopped talking. Wesker was standing there with his arms crossed. Someone laughed. Jill was frozen still, horrified.

She hired an actor from the local reparatory theater to pop into the cafeteria on lunch. She started yelling about the crabs he'd given her. It was twice as funny to her as he was clearly, clearly, the master of safe sex. The girl was an A-class actor. She stormed out of the cafeteria and the whole room was a riot of laughter.

He saluted her with his water bottle. She kinda loved him.

He paid a mariachi band to follow he around for an entire day. They followed her wherever she went. They wouldn't leave. They were even there during a meeting with Wesker. Horrified, she said, "I'm sorry, sir."

Wesker just smiled. Apparently…even he could be amused.

They went out on patrol to start canvasing potential locations for the cannibals to be hiding. Chris picked up his binoculars to scan the length of the forest from where they stood. It was a bad idea to go traipsing around the forest near the Arklay Mountains. Wolves weren't uncommon in there and the occasional bear as well.

The mountain range was craggy and beautiful, admittedly. It streaked across the sky in jagged fingers capped with snow. A rich tapestry of creation covered from countryside to forest, offering the view the ability to bird and bug watch or enjoy the sights of god's gift from sky to soil. But if the cannibals were in there hiding, they weren't coming out any time soon. And they needed more than a handful of people searching for them.

Barry said, "We should do a search at least along the outer perimeter. If they are hiding, they won't be far from town. They couldn't go too far in and be able to get back out unnoticed otherwise."

Chris nodded, "They're close by. No lie there. But where?"

He lowered the binoculars. Brad let out a chuckle. Barry snickered. Chris looked at their faces. "What?"

She'd covered his binoculars in something black and sticky. He had raccoon eyes. In Raccoon City. Lord.

He high fived her over hamburgers at dinner.

He went out with Cindy again. She stayed home and played the zombie game. It was really stupid, she mused, shit was on fire in this game. Literally. And the skinny little character she was playing was just running through streets and stuff grabbing ammo.

She yelled, "Hey hey hey! Hey! There's a truck here. A TRUCK. Why can't I get on the truck and drive out of the city? What the fuck."

Chris came home early from his date.

"No luck?"

"No interest. She's nice. But she's too dumb."

"Chris!"

"What?"

"That's my friend!"

"Oh shit. Sorry." He sat down on the floor next to her. She was barreling through some kind of gunshop covered in blood.

"Oh hey! Sweet ass. You beat the hoard huh? By the bus?"

"Yep. Cake. Grenade."

"Nice."

"Yep."

She reached a point where the crows started diving at her in the game. "What's this shit!?"

"I know. Annoying."

She tossed down the controller, pissed. She settled back against him on the floor. She put her head on his shoulder. He curled an arm over hers.

"Sorry, Valentine. It appears the day is not saved."

"I'd save the day. What kind of idiot runs around the streets while the city burns?"

"The type who's skinny with girl hair."

"Clearly."

"No offense but if I come up on a dead body lying on the ground and it gets UP. I'd be running."

"Not me."

"Point, punch, shoot?"

"You got it, sweetcheeks."

"What's wrong with dumb? You telling me every girl you throw that huge dick down to is a road scholar?"

Chris chuckled. "No. But I need something better than spending an hour and a half talking about shopping."

"Oy. I like Cindy too. She's not usually like that."

Oh. OH. It clicked. Cindy had turned him off on purpose. Why? She looked at his face. It was a great fucking face. Maybe she didn't like the personality? Doubtful. Chris was funny and articulate, clearly intelligent, and a gentleman. What wasn't to like? A mystery.

They sat in quiet for a little while. She rubbed his belly. He rubbed her arm. They fell asleep siting there. They woke up curled up together on the floor. She put her hands in his pants and brought him awake to fuck her.

They fell back asleep sweaty and satisfied.

Wesker sent them to patrol the forest. They trudged through it in the mud and the muck. It was rainy and humid and gross. Spring had given way to the beginning of an ugly summer. Clearly. The rain came and stayed for a week straight.

No bikes. No football. No fun.

They laid on the floor in the living room throwing the hackie sack up and taking turns catching it. Chris said, "Date night?"

"Nah. Some dude asked me out last week. Boring."

"Oh yeah?"

"Oh yeah."

"What was the problem?"

"He was all about trying to get in my pants, man. I like aggressive to a point but come on. Get your hand out of my pants and go away."

"You want me to kick his ass?"

Jill laughed and rolled her head. They were lying side by side sorta but upside down. Their heads were side by side on the floor. She kissed his cheek. "No, big softie. I'll be just fine."

He caught her face and the hackie sack plopped onto her belly.

"You made me miss."

"You should take me outside and horsewhip me."

"I should. That games been going on for like forty five minutes."

He studied her in the muted gray lighting from outside. Thunder rumbled quietly and the rain was soft and quiet on the rooftop. The kitchen was dripping somewhere and they had a bucket under the drip on the floor. It plopped softly.

Her eyes lilted at the corners and made her face. Really. She had sleek, strong brows over a little pert nose. She had just a suggestion of a cleft in her chin. She was strong featured with high cheekbones. Those big eyes though. That was the kicker.

She studied him as well. She could see the fine hairs on his cheeks this close. If he didn't shave daily, he was sporting a five o'clock shadow by 8 am. And a full on beard in a week and a half. His hair was so black when you were close to him. But the hints of red were there mixed in. She could look at him all day. He had a set of heavy eyebrows that complimented those gorgeous eyes. In the soggy lighting, they were a rich dark gray. The heavy handed blade of his nose was a strong tie to the Lakota blood on his Dad's side. He was all strong angles and sharp lines. He had a jaw made to take a fist..or fuck you raw…respectively.

She shifted a little where she laid, getting a little excited.

He lifted a brow at her. "You gotta pee or what?"

"Not exactly," And she laughed. "I'm worried about tomorrow."

"Why?"

"It's our first real mission. We've done some stuff. Yeah. But they're sending us up the mountain tomorrow. It's going to be rough. No more hand holding. Just…go get it done. And in the pouring rain no less."

"It'll be lame, Jill. Honestly. I hiked all over hell and back in the service. It's mostly a lot of gear and a lot of walking. Nothing ever really happens. I threw down in a fight maybe three times the whole time I was in it. We'll probably do this job for a hundred years and it won't be exciting. What kind of shit happens in a place called Raccoon City? Rat infestation?"

Jill snickered.

"Critters out of control! Call for the STARS!"

Jill watched his face while he talked. She kinda loved watching his face. His teeth were fucking perfect in that dirty mouth of his.

"Oh my god! They ran out of soap at the Wash 'N Go! Someone bring in the National Guard!"

"You're so dumb."

"Cheese and rice, the Apple Inn is over run with bedbugs! Yikes!"

Cheese and rice. He was always saying stuff like that. And calling her Jilly Bean. Which was stupid and she loved it.

"Something could happen."

"What? Honestly? Bears? I can handle a bear."

And now she laughed, watching his face. "Oh. This should be good. How do you handle a bear?"

"Get up."

They got to their feet. Chris rolled his shoulders. Jill rolled hers. "Ok. I'm the bear. Grab me."

"….because I would so often GRAB a bear. Why am I grabbing a bear?"

"Grab me. Come on. Do it."

"No way. You'll hurt me."

"Pfft. I've never hurt a woman in my life."

"Tell that to my hoohah, big guy. It would beg to differ."

He looked at her, considering. And glanced at her in that tiny little shirt she was wearing. She wasn't wearing a bra. Obviously. And her nipples told him she was happy thinking about her hoohah and him joining forces.

"Just attack me, Jill. And grab me like a bear."

She shrugged and moved to grab him. He grabbed her by the front of her shirt and jerked her against him. She gasped and leapt. Her legs wrapped around him. He carried her into the bedroom and threw her on the bed.

"That's how you fight a bear?" And she was laughing.

"If the bear had your ass, probably. You want to watch tv?"

"Are you kidding? Take off your pants."

"You're my best friend."

Jill laughed and he threw off his clothes. She watched him hobble around to lose a sock and thought, not for the first time, how cute that ass of his was. He sorta fell over and she laughed again.

"You're all left feet, Red. Seriously."

"I tend to be more graceful when I'm not rock hard and looking to mount you like a prize pony."

Jill wiggled out of her panties and left on the little undershirt she was wearing. He finally got his sock off and turned to say something. And she had one hand on herself getting down.

He blinked, blinked again, and said, "You are the hottest woman in the world."

She laughed, breathily. What was worse? He kept standing there watching her. She gasped, shivering, and worked herself watching him.

Cheese and rice, he thought, how was he supposed to do this thing here with her? He was kinda obsessed with her. It was like being fifteen and getting on a girl for the first time. He dug it. But he was pretty sure it was breaking the rules to do it.

What the fuck, he thought, who gave a shit?

Jill watched his face. He was something, she mused desperately as she pushed herself toward her own release, no bullshit. Just standing there watching her with those hot, hot eyes. Lord. She started to pull her hand back and he said, "No. Keep going. Get yourself all wet and slick. Make yourself come. I'm gonna put my mouth on you when you're soaking wet and taste you."

Holy hell. That worked. She was done. She came, bucking and gasping.

And he was a man of his word. He put his hands on her breasts under the shirt she was wearing and played with her while he licked her. She hadn't even stopped coming yet when he started. It was insane.

He was the most hands on guy she'd ever been with. He was all touch and drive. And that tongue! It was a wizard. It cast a spell on her and left her jerking and dying. He didn't just go down, he went down like he was kicking in doors and blowing shit up. Chris Redfield only knew one way to go and he did it like a porn star.

He held her hips and buried his face against her, rolling in her and driving her closer to the edge. He lifted his head to look at her, "You wanna get fucked?"

God almighty. He had the filthiest mouth on earth. She nodded, half insane for him.

He got the condom.

She was so wet it felt amazing for him to mount her. He filled her so full she wanted to come apart screaming from it. He anchored her to the bed and rode her hard. Her socks knocked against his ass as he drilled her. Her jerked her little shirt over her head and it trapped her arms behind her head. He set his teeth to her and savaged the hell out of her breasts.

She was hoarse and hadn't remembered screaming his name but she must have because she came apart doing it.

She was the sexiest woman alive, hands down. He was crazy about her. Nuts. In it. Lost. He wanted to fuck her raw and leave her upside down pretty much 24/7. He loved her laugh and her stupid pranks. He loved her.

A cool breeze blew across them from the open window.

What had his Dad said? The wind was bringing something?

That was it. He thought as she rolled and came above him. Her hands slid over his slick chest and stopped. She lifted and lowered herself on his body like a wild thing. He grabbed her throat and pulled her down to kiss him. She was it for him.

He was so into her it was probably stupid. But there it was.

Jill gasped and dug her nails into his chest. He sucked air between his teeth and hissed. They rolled again and she was on all fours. He bit her back and fucked her so hard it had to hurt. It had to. But she didn't do anything but buck back against him and beg for more.

He didn't think she could get any hotter. She burned everything she touched. She was the hottest thing alive. He watched himself fucking her in the mirror beyond the bed. Her little bubble butt slapping back against his groin. He grabbed her hair and turned her head to see it.

She gasped, grunted, and laughed. "Jesus that's dirty."

"…christ. You're beautiful." And she was. She so was. Slick and wet and with that little white undershirt half hanging off her. She had the face of a Grecian goddess and the body of a playboy bunny. She was curvy hips and curvy butt and sex. She was a fucking fifteen not a twelve. He watched her face in the mirror while he went in and out of her.

Her mouth was open, her eyes glazed, she had a tangle of hair in her eyes. But she held his gaze in that mirror. And stole his fucking breath with it.

She watched the muscles in his stomach clench and flex. His arms did the same as he pulled her back and forth on his body. She wanted something. Something. And didn't know what.

He lifted his hand and brought it down on her ass. The smack was loud and echoing in the quiet room. And she mewled as it rang up her spine. Ok, she thought, that was it. She was done. She came apart around him shoving against him so hard she nearly knocked him off her.

His hands curled under her and drew her up against his front, playing with her breasts. He turned her face and kissed her, tongue and slick want. She reached a hand around him and drove her nails into his ass. He curved one hand down and over her groin, spreading it over her where he was buried in her body. He flicked her with his fingers and felt himself go in and out of her while she came, spasming and gasping into his mouth. He went after her, grunting, cursing a little.

They shuddered together, stuck with sweat. She started to come down from the high and say something witty and sexy or funny. He grabbed a handful of her hair and turned her mouth back to him. And he didn't just kiss her, she thought wildly, he raped her mouth. It was wet and very deep and very possessive. He kept that hand on her groin, holding her against him and keeping himself inside her while he finished coming.

When he let go of her hair, she gasped, shivering. He slid his hand over her slick chest and palmed one breast, rolling it. And then his hand splayed on her chest and stayed there. She went very still against him. He was feeling her heart hammer in her chest.

She opened her eyes. And he was looking at her.

He was always looking at her so it wasn't that. It wasn't. It was what was on his face. They were both panting and slick, hot and used up. In the mirror, she looked small and girly next to him. He wasn't big, not by any means, but he had the build for it. His shoulders could carry more muscle if he wanted. And he was clearly trying to get there. He was tall, which made her feel small and feminine, but it wasn't that either. It was his eyes. They kept looking at her mouth.

He'd kissed her plenty. Why was now different, she thought? And then she felt it. She felt him lower his head and kiss her. His arm shifted off her groin and around her waist. The one on her chest slid up into her hair. And he rolled her. He rolled her around.

She made some sound tunneled her fingers into his hair. His arms wrapped around her and slid down her back to her butt. He pulled her against him on their knees on the bed. Oh, she thought, oh oh oh. Like that night at the bar. Like now. Oh.

Bad.

But good.

Kissing wasn't against the rules, she thought desperately, but maybe it should have been. He kissed her like he'd fill her up and burst her open with it. She leaned back, holding his face. He darted his eyes back and forth over her. She whispered, "Jesus, Chris."

And he kissed her again. Eyes open. Eye open and held on hers.

Oh, she thought again, oh oh oh.

He let her go and she fell back on the bed, panting.

The rain was still hitting the roof softly and steadily. She looked at him on his knees above her. This was a flag on the play, clearly, in violation of the agreement.

Nothing good could come from it.

And she opened her arms to him anyway.


	6. Let's Get Ready To Rumble

**The Devil's Bargain**

* * *

 **Six:**

 **Let's Get Ready to Rumble**

* * *

 **Raccoon City, 1997**

* * *

He crawled toward her and she opened her legs for him. Good or bad, she thought, who would say no to that face of his? He collapsed on top of her and put his ear on her chest. She wrapped her legs around him and her hands settled in his hair.

They panted, softly, and deeply. The breeze blew across the bed and tickled their sweat slick skin. She stroked his hair, staring at the ceiling.

He wasn't her type. He wasn't. He wasn't wrong about the pretty boy thing. It was usually her type. Chris was hot, hands down, hot and tall and pretty close to getting ripped out. He was gorgeous and that coppery skin of his looked amazing next to the milk paleness of hers. But he wasn't her usual kettle of fish.

What was it about him?

He licked her breast and she shivered. Well there was THAT. Freight train fucking was a big part of it. But it was just him. He laughed. He was guileless and loving. And real. She was crushing on him pretty hard. But it wasn't anything really concerning.

Until five minutes ago. Now she was crushing on him pretty bad and it was a little concerning. Because she liked him in her life. A lot. And she was pretty sure getting involved as a bad idea.

She looked at him in the mirror. She touched his sweaty spine, she slid her hand over one of those biceps. Not even flexed and they were hard. He was big on lifting, trying to put on muscle. She wondered what he'd look like if he ever did.

He lifted his head and looked at her. "I think my dick fell off."

And she laughed. "Seriously?"

"Oh yeah. You're a goddess. You fuck like a porn star. I'm pretty much hard for you like…" He seemed to consider it, "Like six days a week."

"What's the seventh day?"

"That's the day of rest."

She laughed and he leaned up and kissed her.

Oh.

But he was grinning.

"Food?"

Jill snorted. "Men. Dicks and bellys."

"True story. Pasta?"

"Why not?"

"Cool." He rolled off her and she laid there, staring at the ceiling. She was over thinking it. He wasn't doing anything but being good in bed. He was, hands down, the best she'd ever had. He just got it. He knew what she wanted and where to give it and how hard. That spanking? Jesus. He was so dirty. So few guys wanted to get dirty with her. Too many of them trying to be the man and miss the point of a good sweaty romp in the sheets.

They ate pasta naked in bed. She turned on the tv and they watched reruns of In the Heat of the Night. She set aside her pasta bowl and shifted over. He glanced at her, pulled her arm, and put her in front of him. She wrapped his arms around her and he looped one leg over hers and settled it between her legs.

She said, "This show is stupid. It's all bad acting."

"Seriously. What else is on?"

They ended up watching the news. He wondered if she was aware that she was rubbing his thigh absently. She just liked the springy hair there.

She wondered if he was aware he kept kissing her neck while he talked to her. She was. She liked it. She thought it was probably more like boyfriend shit. But she liked it.

She said, "You believe this shit with the cannibals? Where are they hiding?"

"I have no clue. Seriously. We've looked everywhere."

"You think they're in the mountains?"

"Honestly? No. It's too far out. No way to snatch and grab that far out."

"True."

"Wish those fuckers with the bombs would show up though."

"I hear you. Last time? That shop by the mall? Awful."

"Yeah it was pretty fucking bad."

The phone rang and surprised them both. Chris didn't let go of her but grabbed it from the nightstand. "Yo."

She rolled her face a little against the soft hair that played over his nipples. She nipped one and he gave her those eyes she loved. She could feel him hard and ready against her back now. She gave him wide eyes.

He laughed silently and shook his head. Her hand slid down and wrapped around him behind her back. She stroked him, pleasing them both.

"Yeah. Yeah? You bet. Let me know."

He hung up the phone.

"Everything ok?"

"Yeah. Work stuff. Might be a mission happening."

"Oh yeah? Should we go in?"

"Not yet." He watched her, watched her eyes, while she worked his body. "Cheese and rice, Valentine. Again?" His voice was hoarse and he grinned at her.

"Why not? It's rainy. Nothing else happening. You want to play video games?"

"No. Keep playing with my dick."

"Don't be dirty, Chris Redfield."

"You like dirty."

"True. Shower?"

"Shower."

She laughed as he dragged her up, hooked her under his arm upside down, and carried her like a sack of flour into the bathroom.

They ended up in the bathtub, end to end, covered in bubbles.

He said, "You tell anyone I took a bubble bath, I will whoopie cushion you in front of Wesker."

"Too late. You already did."

Chris laughed, rubbing her little foot in his hand. She used the other to play with his body in the water. The delicious thing, she was trying to kill him.

"What's the mission?"

"Potentially they're saying they might have found the cultists responsible for the bombings."

"Yeah? Really?"

"Apparently. They're coordinating a raid. So we're in if it goes down."

"Fucking sweet. Enough simulations. Let's get out there."

"Right?"

"I hope it goes down like that. Seriously. I took this job to kick asses and fight. We mostly just sit around twiddling our thumbs and playing with ourselves. Wesker is great about keeping us active when he can. But we're wasted there at those desks all day. So many better things we could be doing."

"Yeah? Like fucking?"

Oh. His mouth. It worked every time.

He slipped his hand through the water and put two fingers in her. Just like that. He hooked his thumb up, flicked twice over her body, curled those fingers in her a few times and she came, gasping, twitching.

She was, without a doubt, the most sexual creature he'd ever put his hands on. She was all feeling and touch. She was vocal and in touch with her body and her wants. It was a constant surprise to him. She was a dude with tits and he was mad for her.

He slid his hand back and washed her foot.

Jill shivered in the water. She laughed and shifted, sliding over him in the water. Yeah, he thought, the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. She licked his chest, lapping at the water there. She scent marked him, licking and nipping at his collarbone and his neck. She settled over his lap and rubbed herself all over his dick.

Fuck.

He gripped handfuls of her hair and fucked her mouth with his tongue.

She couldn't even believe how good he was at it. I don't lie, he'd said that first day. He didn't. He was by turns a complete goof and a hero in romance novel. He just knew how to turn her, how to kiss her, how to take her. And it was incredible.

She started to shift and put him inside her and he shook his head.

Oh. Of course. The condom.

He was also an utter gentleman about some things.

She grabbed his face and put it back against the tiles. "You fucking anybody else right now?"

He met her eyes, breathing heavy, "Right now? In this tub? I don't think so but let me check."

"Be serious, you idiot. Are you?"

"No. Just you."

"Me too. Stop being a fucking boy scout."

She slid her hand around him and rubbed him over her. He made some sound in his throat and rubbed his hands over her ass. "Jesus."

Jill laughed a little. She grabbed his face again. "Let's amend the rules here a little."

He licked her mouth. She shivered. "Maybe we don't fuck other people while we're fucking."

"Maybe huh?"

"Yeah. Not dating. Just…fucking."

"You want to exclusively fuck me?"

She gave him bland eyes.

"Maybe I should consult my horoscope. It said not to make any serious sexual commitments while Jupiter is in flux and Mercury is in retrograde. So…"

"Are you ever serious?"

"Yes?"

She slapped his chest a little.

"Tell me what you want, Jill. That was always our deal."

"For right now, we only fuck each other."

"Sounds good. Are we together?"

"No. We're not together. We're friends. We still can date. Just no..fucking."

"Deal."

She looked at his face. "You ok with that?"

"Sure. I like fucking you. No interest in fucking other chics when I'm getting it from you. Keep jumping on my dick, I'll keep it out of other girls. Seems fair."

"Cool." She shifted a little and slid him against her body again.

"Woah there. Friends don't bareback their friends. It's the unspoken rule of the booty call."

She laughed at him. He was such a goof. Was he never without humor in those eyes? She kinda loved him. And she knew she didn't want him fucking other girls. So it was something.

She said, "Shut up, you boyscout. Don't get me pregnant."

"No promises. Redfield men are potent. We get girls pregnant by coming in the wind. True story."

She laughed now. She laughed and gave up trying to mount him. She fell against his chest laughing. He cuddled her, grinning.

"You did that on purpose."

"Maybe. I'm a good guy, Jill. I'd love to throw you down and fuck you bare and raw. No lie."

Holy hell. That worked. She was turned on again.

"But good guys don't go skin to skin with girls. Not without marrying them first."

"What a thing to say." She lifted his head to look at him. "You mean that."

"I do. You want me to be your guy? I'll slip you the sweaty, bare, naked Chris Redfield any time."

"You are my guy. And did you just refer to yourself in the third person?"

"Chris Redfield does that."

"He's a douche."

"He takes offense to that."

Jill chuckled and kissed him. He grabbed her ass and rolled her over his body. That meaty shaft of his brushed all the right places. She shivered and liked it.

She liked him too. The idiot.

He rubbed himself all over her. He rubbed himself against her clit, against her cleft. He was such a dirty man. He tortured her.

She leaned back, "Enough, boyscout. Give it to me." He was laughing as she tried to take his dick and put it in her.

It was the sexiest, strangest struggle he'd ever been a part of. He kissed her furrowed brow. She glanced at him. He kissed her mouth, soft. And she held his eyes.

Oh, she thought, oh. She darted her eyes over his face. Her hand was tentative on his face. She kissed him back, butterfly light.

And he thought: damnit.

And then he did that thing that made her belly roll. He turned the kiss deep somehow. And it was slow and rolling and still soft. It was a boyfriend kiss.

Which was clearly against the rules.

The phone was ringing.

Jill leaned back, panting.

He said, "Go time."

"Go time."

She rolled off him and out of the water to hurry to her room. Chris sank down under the bubbly water and groaned, laughing. He loved her and he was pretty sure that was ENTIRELY against the rules.

* * *

They geared up back at the station. Barry was pretty calm. Joseph was more interested in making sure everything was working from the chopper to the communicators. The communicators were attached to boxy little units that clipped on their bulletproof vests. They were basically walkie talkies with a longer range.

Naturally Brad looked like he might pee himself at any moment.

Wesker came in to check on things and give them the run down. "At 1300 hours, the local law enforcement line received a tip on the whereabouts of the potential cult we've been tracking in regards to the series of bombings around the city. The tip seems to be legitimate and indicates they were housing themselves in the warehouse district in downtown Raccoon. From what we've seen previously, the mission is potentially hazardous. The use of detonation devices limits our ability to potentially foresee how much danger we're in. There is, at this time, the option to decline the mission."

Surprised, Chris glanced up from where he was strapping on his vest. "What?"

"The mission is voluntary. The risk involved and the parameters of operating blind requires that I offer you, any of you, the ability to back out."

Jill watched Wesker's face. She was looking for the creepy guy she'd sensed so often when watching him. But it wasn't there. What was there? The Captain who'd earned the reputation as the best in the business. He looked calm, he looked clear, and he looked ready to lead them. Creepy or not, he'd asked for obedience that day in the interview. She'd said yes, she meant it. She'd followed leaders in Delta that she didn't necessarily like. She didn't have to like Wesker to trust him. To do this job and be good at it, came with a great deal of self sacrifice. That deserved respect. The rest? They were about to see if he'd earned it.

"I'm in, Captain Wesker. All in."

He nodded at Jill. She turned back to get her weapon and load the magazine. She felt Chris watching her. She lifted her head and he winked. He said, "There's no other way to go here, sir. Throw down or go down. I'm in."

Barry nodded, "You know me, sir. When have I ever bowed out?"

Joseph shot a thumbs up from the other side of the room where he was messing with the radio in the STARS office to be sure it would receive transmissions. Naturally the only link in the chain that was a potential no?

Brad Vickers.

Chris rolled his eyes and watched Jill put on her jaunty little beret she was always wearing. She settled it over that incredible face of hers and he shook himself a little. That was the thing she'd been talking about, he speculated, she didn't want them mixing the naked stuff with the work stuff. Surely he could do that. Surely.

He grabbed the AR-50 from the floor and looped the sniper rifle over his back. There was always the probability that he'd be sharpshooting from a distance. He didn't like it. But he was trained for it. He was johnny on the spot. Seriously. But Barry got to go in on point often when they needed cover. That was how team work happened, after all. You couldn't be the guy kicking in the door all the time.

Brad was doing the peepee dance. Finally, Chris slapped a hand on his shoulder and grinned. "Come on, you puss, you can do this. Why'd you sign up otherwise?"

Brad took a deep breath and nodded.

Wesker nodded, "Let's move out."

As they tracked through the RPD, Jill moved up beside him. Chris glanced down at her as they walked toward the helipad.

"Wow."

"What?"

"I'm nervous."

"Interesting. Why?"

"You know, I think it's Wesker. I have this…thing."

"You have a thing for Wesker?" He twitched his lips and she glanced up at his face. "Is it serious? Should I ask where you're registered?"

"Shut up, you idiot," She slapped his arm, "I want to impress him. Is that weird?"

"No way. I get it. He's a total weirdo. But he's also, probably, the most stealthy, bad ass dude I've ever met. I simultaneously want to run away from him and have him pat me on the back."

"Right? He sought us out. That means he was watching us."

"He wanted the best. Clearly." Chris flexed his arm where Jill was touching it. She snorted and rolled her eyes, dropping her hand.

"Try being humble, Red. Just once."

"I'm humble. I am. I'd be more humble but somebody left me with blue balls earlier. So I'm just hard up."

Joseph said, from behind them, "Word, brutha. Story of my life."

Chris glanced back at him. "Right? Why can't women just finish what they start? This chic was all over me in the bathtub and she just…" He waved his hands. "Poof. Disappeared."

Joe shook his head. He had his red bandanna on his head and his long hair tied back. "Dude. She sounds like a bitch. You should dump her."

"I'm thinking about it."

Jill rolled her eyes.

"You know Heather from Vice? She puts out and doesn't ask for shit. She's kinda awesome. You want me to hook you up?"

Jill had her tongue in her cheek and wanted to smack the shit out of him at the same time. Little bastard. But she was smiling.

"Nah man. This chic doesn't like for me to fuck around. So I better say no. But Heather already asked me out anyway."

"Yeah? How'd it go?"

"It didn't."

They were close to the door to the helipad on the roof. Joseph slapped him on the arm. "You struck out with Heather? That sucks dude. Seriously. I've never seen anyone strike out with Heather."

Jill started to pass by them and Chris said, "Nah. Didn't strike out. Just wasn't interested."

And she didn't like the warm feeling in her belly about that. But she kinda did. And she kinda liked it too. It was a mess.

One thing she knew? It was going to end badly. Things like this...always did.


	7. STARS

**The Devil's Bargain**

* * *

 **Seven:**

 **S.T.A.R.S.**

* * *

 **Raccoon City, 1997**

* * *

They loaded their gear into the chopper that Brad had fired up and was fiddling with the controls and the levers on it. Nobody helped Jill on the chopper. She wasn't a girl to them at the end of the day. She was just Jill. The dude with tits.

When it came to the mission, she wasn't even a girl to Chris. Who was rapidly becoming very familiar with those tits. They put on headgear and strapped in, sitting around the chopper as it lifted up and headed toward the mission.

Over the headgear, Wesker's voice was loud and tinny, like listening inside of a can. "When we touch down, the objective will be to get into the building with a minimal amount of attention. Jill? We will cover you while you get us in passed whatever locks are baring the way. I will run point on this operation and Chris and Barry will protect the rear. Joseph will cover the flanks with Jill. Brad?"

"Yes sir?"

"You'll keep the chopper as close as possible in case we require and evacuation."

"Roger."

"The nature of the mission remains to clear the perimeter, capture any suspects that can be taken into custody without direct assault, and rescue any potential hostages. Use of necessary force is authorized. In the event of separation, the rendezvous point will be the drop off and evacuation point. Are we clear?"

The word clear was echoed from each member. And the helicopter had reached their destination. They were over the roof of the building they were planning to infiltrate.

They leapt clear and grabbed their gear. Brad lifted up and away into the rainy sky. This rain, Chris mused, would it ever stop?

Jill was already hurrying to the fire escape door that would take them into the stairs. She dropped low and pulled her lock picks to get to work.

Chris studied the surrounding area. This part was abandoned and had been for some time. Why? With all the money Umbrella was dumping into the city, why not rebuild the industrial district? An influx of commerce and production would spell unparalleled funds for the city. It was odd that it remained empty and unused. Chris wasn't much of a business man, but he knew wasted resources and potential when he saw them.

"We're in." Jill said softly.

She stepped back, they all assumed their positions. Wesker grabbed the knob and nodded off to them. And through the door he went.

They cleared the stairwell and moved together down it. At the first door down, they nodded off again and Wesker went through. Jill and Joseph were after him with Barry and Chris following up the rear. They emerged into the main area of the top floor.

This had once been a processing plant obviously. There were still carcasses of rotting meat hanging from hooks and the horror that comes with old death. Blood was splattered and scattered from the one end to the other over the area meant to cut and bleed the livestock brought there and marked for death. It was the smell of fart and old blood that did it, somebody gagged.

Jill thought, do NOT vomit. If somebody threw up, she'd throw up. That was NOT how you impressed Albert Wesker.

The area was wide open and had grating for the floor. You could see down onto the bottom floor from the top, vaguely. And their boots clanged as they walked across it. A quick sweep showed the top floor was secure.

Wesker turned to them. "Joseph and Barry, clear the West the stairwell and the coordinating offices. Jill, Chris, with me."

Naturally, Jill thought, she was going to do something stupid here because they were with the Captain. Naturally. Wesker signaled with his head and they opened the door into the east side of the processing plant.

They could hear voices now, talking loudly and shouting. There was laughter. Wesker gestured with two fingers and a series of hand signals that told them what he wanted. Chris moved, dropping the sniper rifle into his hands. He took the ladder, silently, against the far wall where they stood. Jill moved to the opposing wall of the short staircase across from Wesker and put her back to it.

Wesker and Jill both had their guns up while they waited for Chris to get into position. Jill was a little entranced looking over at the Alpha team captain. He had a way of staring at you that made you feel, vaguely, that he was trying to get a glimpse into your soul. What did he see there? She wondered. Emptiness?

She shivered.

Chris' voice came, softly, through the head set. "In position. There are six potential hostiles. And it looks to be three hostages. Initial investigation is revealing that they are armed and dangerous. Go ahead with orders."

"Stand down, Redfield. But stay alert."

"Roger, Captain."

Wesker glanced at Jill and signaled with his hand. She nodded, understanding that he wanted her to cover him. He moved away from the wall and progressed down the stairs.

What was happening in the room at the bottom of the stairs was frightening. Cult, they'd said, and it was that. Satanic it appeared in nature and clearly bent on terrorism based on the maps and pictures lining the walls. There was an inverted pentagram painted in blood on the floor.

The cultists were dressed normally, which was surprising. Jill thought, what did you expect? Cloaks and chanting? Maybe. Maybe she had. They were clearly setting up for a slaughter though. And the three people trapped in the chairs were meant to be a sacrifice.

Wesker nodded and they emerged onto the bottom floor.

Wesker and Jill both sought cover behind opposing walls again. And Wesker called, "R.P.D. Freeze and lower your weapons."

Did they? Naturally not. Why would it be that simple?

The first one lifted one of the AR-15's he was holding and Chris put him down. Quick, clean and loud in the quiet room.

They didn't come quietly.

The next one met his untimely end via Wesker's pistol right between the eyes. He leaned around the wall and popped off a single shot. Finito. Impressive, Jill thought, and waited to see if the rest wised up. Apparently, they weren't the smartest guys on earth.

The door to the stairs opened and in came more of the bad guys. Just like that.

Jill and Wesker separated off their walls and found cover beyond barrels and a book case. Chris lived up to his name. He was the eye in the sky and she'd seen him drill a guy once on a windy day from a thousand yards. He covered the hostages, primarily. And picked off the ones that made an attempt to finish them off.

Bullets smashed into the floor and the wall behind her as the guys on the stairs tried to kill her and Wesker. She covered him as he returned fire, watching him waste not a single shot.

Over the headset, Chris said, "Orders?"

Wesker answered, "Try to leave one alive for questioning. Otherwise shoot to kill."

"Roger."

Jill glanced up, randomly, during the heavy fire fight. And there two of them. Two of them. And they knew where Chris was and were advancing on his position.

She aimed between the metal slats in the floor and pulled the trigger. The heavy round took off the top of his head. She watched Chris roll to his back, pull his side piece from his thigh, and drill the second in a single move.

He nodded at her through the metal and she gave him a thumbs up.

But splitting her attention cost her. She felt the bullet whiz passed her face and slice her cheek open as it went. She ducked, feeling the hot went spill of blood.

Wesker's voice came, "Barry, Joseph. Sound off. We're under fire and need assistance."

"Things are clear here, Captain," Barry came back to him, "Hold down and stay down. We're on the way."

The far door on the side of the main floor burst open and they were now seriously out numbered. Chris picked them off as fast as he could but he couldn't get them all. And they knew where he was now, so his stealth was blown.

He turned his weapon and picked off the last two facing Jill and Wesker instead from behind.

Wesker said, "Chris, cease cover fire. We'll cover you from down here. Direct assault and protect the hostages."

"Roger."

Jill felt her eyes flare. What was he telling him to do?

Chris grabbed the edge of the balcony he was on and swung down into the mess of bad guys. Just like that. She was horrified.

He swung back and kicked out, taking three with him as he landed. Wesker signaled to her and they moved to a closer position to cover him. One lifted a gun and Jill drilled him in the chest. Chris was something to see with those flying fists, she thought. He fought like a brawler, all fists and power. He feinted left, pulled his side arm, and put two in a guy rushing him from behind. Wesker took out the one who was trying to kill him from the doorway while he did.

The interesting part about Chris was that he'd just done it. He'd done it. He'd given up a relatively safe position and leapt down into danger because Wesker had said it. That was impressive and she saw the respect for it on Wesker's face.

Total obedience, he'd said. And he was getting it.

Chris ducked down and came up, uppercut and hook. He drove a kick into a groin and rolled back to throw an elbow. He was really good at it. She'd known he was good with his hands but hadn't actually seen him in action before. She liked it.

The door behind them flew open again and in poured more angry cultists. These ones were holding knives and shouting. And, oh yeah, they were wearing cloaks now. There we go, Jill thought, that was more like it.

Jill's gun ran dry and she pulled her knife. Wesker nodded. And in she went, straight into the fray. Her blood fired with it. The thrill of the fight, she thought, and they were animals for it.

She dropped low and took out two sets of legs. Their hacking and slashing was deadly, angry, and misdirected. There was no skill here, just rage.

She blocked, reversed, and stabbed three vicious strikes into the belly of the closest one. The next one grabbed her hair and she rolled her shoulder, slid to one knee and sliced his throat open. The blood burst and splattered her face. It was like being baptized.

A big fat one grabbed her around the waist and picked her up against his front, squeezing her. She threw a reverse head butt and kicked him in the groin with one foot. He dropped her and grunted. She stabbed him in that fat belly and he backhanded her.

Jill went left, hitting the wall. She felt him grab the back of her head and she knew he was going to smash her face into the wall and splatter her there like road pizza. Wesker was just there, just there, like smoke. He drove a kick into the back of his knee, rotated on his hip and leg, and put a straight arm punch into that beefy chest. The fat man dropped her and she spun low, came up in an uppercut, and hit him square in the solar plexus.

Wesker rolled into that fat body, pulled his arm over his chest and jerked. He put the fat guy into a beautiful hip toss, held onto the arm as he went, rolled it up behind his back and drove a knee down into him. Jill leap frogged over Wesker and covered him. She triple back kicked two more that were running at them. The first one got a punch to the face and the second, she swept down, took his feet out from him and buffalo kicked him away.

The first one made a grab for her and she took his arm, hyper extended it, and drove her hand up under it. She dislocated the arm and rolled across his back while he screamed. She didn't stop, couldn't find it in her stop. She looped an arm over his neck, rolled him down, drove an elbow in his back and put him on his face. She finished him off by mounting him and slicing his throat open.

The first one tried to run. She threw down her shoulder, rolled, and threw the knife when she came up. It hummed, thrummed, and hit him between the shoulder blades, putting him on his face.

She was so into it, she didn't know there was one right behind her. He grabbed her and, poof, she thought, there was Chris. She watched him plant that foot, drive that hip, and knock his teeth down his throat. The guy dropped Jill and Chris grabbed him under his arm, around his throat, dropped to one knee and broke his neck with it. She watched him jerk his arm and heard the crack of bone. Reverse neck breaker. Beautiful.

Oh, she thought, oh oh oh. Click.

"Down!"

She dropped and Wesker threw a kick over her head. It connected with two of them in mid slice. Stop watching Chris Redfield fight, her brain said, and pay attention.

Wesker scissored his legs, rolled through it, knocked the guys around like bowling pins and rolled across the floor. Chris pulled him up and they stood back to back. Jill backed up toward them. They were holding their own, kinda, but they were in trouble. There was still three to one odds.

Go down or throw down, Jill thought, why not?

They circled, keeping each other at the other's back. When one moved, the others merged, covering them. They never let their backs stay exposed. That's what team work meant.

Chris dropped down, picked up one around the hips, and threw him out. He hit the others behind him in a spill of angry shouting. Wesker swept low, rolled up, and threw three rapid punches into the face of the one closest to them. He rolled across his back, wrapped his arm around that head, and twisted. The neck popped, wet and loud.

Jill kicked twice into the groin of the one rushing her. She spun back in a reverse roundhouse, looped her leg around his neck, rolled up and threw her body back to the ground. She grabbed his face with her thighs, twisted her hips, and snapped his neck. She finished by the throwing the body into the waiting ones beyond it.

They made a grab for Chris and he feinted, went left, and sent a jab and three solid straight arm hits right into the face. It was fast, like a hornet, pop pop pop. He grabbed the flailing arm, rolled it behind his back, put him on his face and broke the arm. Snap. While the guy screamed, he drove his boot to the back of his skull. Pop, wet and loud and crunchy.

Wesker had two of them and they were trying to hit him with those knives.

Jill called, "Captain?"

"Hold position!"

He ducked as one swung, grabbed the wrist and jerked. He rolled up behind the guy and used his own knife to kill the companion. The other guy swung, Wesker drove the hand he held into his sternum, jerked, and arched blood across the room. He rotated, still holding that arm, twisted the knife and used it against the guy holding it. He jabbed it into his chest and watched him gurgle blood.

Jill turned back and got a fist to the face for it. It hit her hard, mid face. And it fucking hurt. She reeled but held her feet, dropping low as he raced her. She went to her back, stuck her feet in his belly, grabbed his arm and threw him out. He landed, Chris grabbed his arm, jerked it and put his boot to that face.

The doors burst open at the cavalry had arrived. Joseph and Barry started picking off bad guys. Jill ran toward the hostages. With a final pop of a round going off, the room was silent.

And three bad guys were on their faces in handcuffs.

Jill went about pulling off restraints.

Joseph said, "Captain. The other side of the plant is full of arms and weaponry. It's clearly their stock pile. But it gets worse. There's stuff over there like I've never seen."

"Such as?"

"Come see. There are no words."

Joseph stayed behind with the hostages. He was in no hurry to see it all again. Ever.

Barry led them through the main lobby to the far side of the plant. The main part operated efficiently as the reception area. In the whole plant, it was the only part that didn't entirely smell like ass and rotting filth.

Chris glanced down at Jill as they moved. She was covered in blood. Only her beret was clean. He said, "Your hat survived."

Jill glanced up. "Yeah?"

"The rest of you looks like hammered shit."

"…charmer."

"I have my moments."

The room was a stockpile. He wasn't kidding there. It was filled floor to ceiling with endless amounts of weaponry. Knives, guns, C-4, explosives and munitions were three deep around them.

But that wasn't what Joseph had been talking about. Barry gestured to the back room. They glanced at him.

He said, "No reason for me to go in. See for yourself."

Wesker moved through the door first. Jill and Chris were after him. And Jill whispered, "Oh my god."

It was a room of body parts. They were strung from the floor and the ceiling and in a variety of sizes and shapes. Feet, arms, hands, heads. It was a plethora of macabre horror. What were they doing here?

But the answer was laid out on the table in front of them. It was a Frankenstein monster, clearly. It was in a circle of blood and dark feathers. It was female and male and not. It was stitched together and bound with twine. There were no words, Joseph was right about that.

Wesker was examining the books in the far corner, leafing through them in his gloves, careful not to disturb the scene too much. He said, "This is the Book of Shadows. It's entirely possible that the cult is doing witchcraft in an attempt to raise spirits to possess the dead."

"Jesus. Like zombies?"

Chris was looking at the stitched corpse. Jill was looking at the heads on the wall. They were watching her, she was fairly certain, and she felt the chill of it in her soul.

"More like a demon, I'm afraid. The spell here is attempting to offer the body on the table to the demon Asmodeus. Whom it appears is the Destroyer."

Jill shuddered. "Why?"

"We'll be finding out. It's my speculation that this isn't all of what we'll be seeing with this cult. The symbolism, the stockpile. This is one piece of a bigger puzzle. I promise you."

Wesker moved toward them. "Let's call in the RPD and get the Special Victims Unit. We're going to need to someone with a specialization in the paranormal to help us here. But it's my guess we'll be moving again in a day or two, so stand ready."

He left the room. They didn't want to wait there in that temple of death either, so they followed him out into the lobby.

Jill thought, creepy or not, he'd come through like a legend in there. She'd never seen anyone move like that, lightning and speed and smoke. He was skilled in a way she'd never seen on the mat when they sparred.

She said, "Captain Wesker, I think you've been taking it easy on me."

He smiled at her and it wasn't creepy at all. It was just…a smile. "You're very good. And very dedicated. But you lack focus. If you would like to learn, I will teach you."

Jill said, "I would like to learn."

"Good. We will start tomorrow. 2 o'clock. Chris? That was nice shooting before. I wondered how you'd do under pressure. The reports didn't lie. Your skill is without question and your ability to follow orders is respectable. It seems I made the right choice hiring you both. Stand down for now and await the RPD."

He moved toward the room with the hostages.

Chris blinked. Jill blinked.

"I think he just…patted us on the head?"

"Felt like it."

"Still creepy?"

"Without question…but why do I feel happy that we pleased him?"

"Maybe the creepy is just REALLY uptight professionalism."

"Maybe."

They glanced at each other and chuckled. Chris said, "Nope. He's odd. But he got our backs in there. And all that mat training, all that simulation? I just fucking KNEW where we should be."

"I know! I felt the same. I did just what he's been teaching us. And we…"

"Right. We meshed."

"Oh my god. Captain Creepy gets us."

"Seems that way."

"He's amazing. Right? He's awesome."

"He is. Why is that annoying?"

"The eternal mystery."

And the sounds of the RPD arriving took their attention back to the mission at hand. It had gone smoothly, efficiently, and well as could be expected. No one was terribly injured and they had three suspects in custody to question. They had bodies and weapons and plenty of intel to sort through and try to pick apart.

They hit the showers when they got back to the station. Jill went under the spray and felt it soak the blood from her skin. The adrenaline still fired like mad in her blood. Was there anything quite like the fight? Jesus. She was high on it and loving it and hot from it. She could feel it in her belly like teeth.

She glanced over at Chris in the stall beside her. It was risky. It was. They were at work. The STARS had their own showers but still. Bravo or any members of Alpha could come in at any moment. The stalls covered everything unless you LITERALLY looked over and in there. You could see neck and head but still. STILL. Bad idea. Bad idea. But she was FLYING.

She left the water in her stall and ran over to his, pulling the curtain quietly.

He had soap in his eyes and cursed, rinsing it out. He started humming what sounded suspiciously like the theme song to MASH. He was rinsing his face in the heavy, heated spray. And she slid around him, went to her knees, and put her mouth over him.

Since he was totally unprepared for it and had no clue she was even there, she was able to swallow all of him while he was still soft. It made her feel like a champion. She didn't just go, she went all in. She sucked him fast, hard and deep. And it made her feel like she was fighting, fucking, and flying all at the same time.

He made some kind of desperate sound and flattened both of his hands against the stall wall, so ungodly turned on he felt like he might die from it. It would have been ok, really. But Barry Burton took the stall on the opposite side from him.

He glanced over and said, "Helluva thing huh? What a mess."

Gruffly, Chris ground out, "Yeah. Totally crazy."

"Seriously." And Barry was whistling as he washed his hair.

Chris dropped his hands, buried them in her hair and she was all kinds of crazy on his dick. She drove her mouth down and up and licked and nipped and bit him until he was pretty sure he was going to explode. Or throw her against the wall and fuck her while Barry Burton watched. Which was horrifying and oddly awesome. He made some sound and Barry glanced over.

"You ok?"

"Oh yeah. Yeah. Just…you know…thinking about the fight."

"Sucks I missed it."

"Yeah. Cheese and rice!" Jill hummed her throat around him and had his eyes trying to cross.

Barry lifted a brow. "You hungry."

"Oh I am. I really am."

"Go grub up dude. Seriously."

"I will. In…just…a minute." She flicked her tongue around the head of him and he forgot what he'd been saying. What was he saying?

Barry shrugged and turned his back to the water. Chris drove that hungry little mouth down on him, hard, felt her gag a little and gave her what she wanted. He shot in her mouth, hissing, and slapping the wall with his hands. He covered it up with a cough.

Jill crawled out of his stall and back into her own.

He stood there for a moment, shuddering.

Jill rose back up and washed her hair. "Hey Barry!"

He glanced over the stall doors at her. You couldn't, obviously, see anything over the door unless you craned your neck and looked down. Politeness kept the eye line clear and neck up. "Hey Jill. I heard you slayed it in there."

"I did. I'm good with my hands."

"That's the rumor."

"Got a dirty fucking mouth though," Chris remarked and made her laugh. She laughed. And she kinda loved him.


	8. Playing with Fire

**The Devil's Bargain**

* * *

 **Eight:**

 **Playing with Fire**

* * *

 **Raccoon City, 1997**

* * *

It was a boring way to spend the rest of their evening. After the adrenaline had passed, it was simply a matter of paperwork. Paperwork. Paperwork...and more paperwork.

They sat around reading reports and looking at books and flipping pages of useless crap. Witchcraft was a total pain in the ass. It was endless and interesting, definitely, but it wasn't relevant. It wasn't even real! Raising the dead? Who were they kidding here?

They worked long into the night trying to figure out where the fight would take them next. The bomb locations were a pattern, surely. And the targets were placed in locations where the body fall out was vast and varied. Jill studied the pinpoints on the map they'd set up in the STARS office, trying to see the pattern.

Was it a way to collect pieces of people when they blew up? Or what?

She went back to her desk and sat down. She was the last person in the office. Literally. Everyone else had given up and gone home.

The door opened and Chris came in, surprising her.

"Still here?"

"Yeah. I can't shake the feeling that we're missing something." He moved to the white board and studied it. She walked over to join him.

He kept staring at it with his brow furrowed. She liked his face in the low lighting from the one lamp on her desk. He was so dedicated. He didn't know how to just let it go. Whatever was stirring in his noodle up there was going to come to a boil soon, she was sure of it.

"Holy shit!"

The loud shout scared the piss out of her. She jumped and slapped his arm at the same time. "Why?!"

"Sorry. Hold on." He moved to dig through books on his desk. She watched him work, watched his eyes scan and dart over pages. And he grabbed the Book of Shadows. He brought it back and flipped through. It was the symbol, he thought, the SYMBOL. "They're detonating things in a pattern like this." He held the Book of Shadows up to the wall. The symbol on the front, the triquetra, was three sided and looped. He traced the symbol by using the red pins put in the map positions on the wall.

"Look! Here, the first bombing. Here, the second. And the third, here. But they keep repeating the pattern along the path of the first three. They aren't just blowing stuff up, Jill, they're blowing it up in this pattern until they close the circle."

"..why?"

"Closing the circle matters in Witchcraft. It's how you complete the spell."

Oh, she thought, oh oh oh. His mind. He was so smart. She'd been blowing smoke all evening and he just got it, boom.

"Damnit. What good do they really think it will do? They think Buffy the Vampire Slayer is just gonna show up and start fighting the Hellmouth? What's the end game here?"

"Buffy?"

"Oh yeah. The shows alright but the chic is hot. So I watch it usually when you go to the gym."

She kinda loved him.

He was digging through papers and scribbling in his notebook. She could see the gears turning in his head. He speared a hand through his hair and muttered, writing and flipping.

Damnit, she thought, she was into him. Shit and double shit.

Chris rolled his chair over and grabbed a book off Barry's desk. He was half way back to the desk and she straddled his lap. Surprised, he dropped the book.

"I know you're scenting blood there Sherlock. But how about a break?"

His hands gripped her little bubble butt and rolled her against him. "You're all about being dirty at work."

"It's 2 a.m. It's you, me, the skeleton crew downstairs. And the hookers in chairs. That's it."

"I could go get a hooker for you if you're that hard up. My treat."

Jill kissed him. And it was different. He felt it. She pulled out the stops on him. He held her face and kissed her back. Slow, she thought with a little panic, like he was…what? Making love to her mouth? Oh, she thought, oh wait. She met his eyes.

He loves you.

It arrowed into her. Because the look on his face said he loved her. She rose off his lap. He watched her, curious.

She wondered what was on her face. She tried kissing him again. It was eyes open. It was watching him, watch her. It was good. Hell. She loved him. It was that simple.

She didn't want to love him.

It was that complicated. She'd made the fucking rules. She couldn't even keep her own side of it? He hadn't said love. He didn't say it. So he wasn't, really, technically, breaking them. She was. She kinda was.

She needed to fix it. Before they got into the "in love" part. He was her guy. Her best friend. She would NOT risk him on love. Stupid.

She could only think of one way to erase the "love" and replace it with something she understood. She could make sense out of the want of him. That was biology. It was sex. It was simple.

She was scared of the love. The love meant commitment and forever and tattoos on your body that made you loyal. It was how he spoke about his parents, and how he talked about Claire. It was scary. If she became his woman and stopped being his pal...what if they failed? What if they didn't work out?

She'd lose him forever. The idea of that terrified her. They needed to keep this simple, easy, basic. It needed to be about what it had started out as: teamwork, jokes, and sex.

She went into Wesker's office.

No one EVER went into Wesker's office.

He waited, curious what she was up to. And she leaned out of the office. He was pretty sure he was still alive. But he'd stopped breathing.

She stood there in the doorway of the office in that little beret, her little boots, her shoulder holster and nothing else.

She said, "How about that break?"

Holy god in Heaven. He was fairly sure she was going to be the death of him. She wanted to fuck him in Wesker's office. WESKER's office.

He wasn't this guy. He didn't do stuff like that. Apparently? He did. His body was up and moving. His dick was up and moving.

He pushed out of the chair and moved. Freight train, she thought, desperately. He caught her in the doorway and she jumped, hooking her legs around him like a whore. He should have thrown her on the desk and fucked her raw.

But he didn't.

He set her in the rolling chair and went to his knees in front of her. Oh, she thought, oh my. And the mouth he put on her said he loved her. She watched him between her thighs in that STARS uniform of his, her thighs over his shoulders and she knew, she knew, it would never be enough. His hands shifted to palm her breasts while he devoured her.

He'd said it. That first day? He'd said it. He loved eating pussy. He did. He really, really did.

Or maybe he just loved eating hers. She gasped out his name and came around his tongue, humping.

She grabbed the back of the chair, bowing against his mouth. He caught her around the waist and set her on the desk. He stepped between her thighs and tilted her head back to him. His tongue dipped in her mouth and her hands slid around his back.

The rules said don't say it. So he didn't say it. But he felt it. He felt her. He loved her. That was it. It was done. She was his. Maybe not how he wanted, but she was his.

It was fingers in her first to make sure she was ready. She was so wet. She was ready. He anchored a hand on her shoulder and threw her leg over his arm. He laid her half back on that desk to look at her in the moonlight. He licked her breasts and knocked her beret loose to kiss her.

And he loved her. He just did. It was that simple.

It was never simple.

He fumbled the little foil package in his wallet free like a horny teenager. He dropped it twice. She reached over to help him slide down the length of his dick.

And she begged.

She begged.

She begged, prettily, "...please."

He gripped a handful of her hair to drag her to his mouth. He wasn't easy. It scared him a little to want her like that. It scared him to feel her in his fucking bones like cancer.

But he loved her. It was all he knew. So he gave himself to her.

And he gave her what they both wanted.

He pulled her to the end of the desk and filled her full of him. Like he was full of her. While the ugly little raven on the bookshelf behind them watched with blood red eyes.

And sent the video of them directly the man whose office they were making love in.

They didn't need to worry about getting fired. He didn't care about that office any more than he cared about anything in the world. He'd succeeded. He'd pushed them together. They were more than together, he thought with glee. And the look on the face of the guy with the eagle eye said she'd done exactly what she was meant to do, she'd roped him with her big blue eyes and her perfect thighs and owned him now.

It was only a matter of time before he used that love to destroy them both…and watch the city burn while he did.

* * *

In the morning, Wesker considered his options.

He rolled the paper weight in his palm, studying the window of the world beyond his office. There clearly needed to be consequences for flagrantly disobeying the rules. They were swimming toward the right conclusion, of course, he was going to have Redfield, precisely, right where he wanted him and very soon. But clearly the nature of things needed better defining.

They were wrapped up in each other, which was all part of the plan. But they were doing it in places where it was dangerous. Should they be caught, by sources other than him, the fall out could prove the end of them. So, he had to steer them back on path here and keep them there. And his shaming could be the catalyst they needed to move right back where they needed to stay. He needed Redfield in love with her and deeply. He was almost there. It would take the right amount of shame and censure to make it work here.

A delicate balance.

He moved to the door of his office and spoke, quietly, "Chris and Jill. Could you join me for a brief moment?"

At their desks, Chris and Jill lifted brows at each other. Chris made a face of laughing fear. Jill snorted. They meandered into the office.

"Sit. Please."

They sat.

Wesker said, without ceremony, "First let me express my gratitude to you both for how you've been coming along at simulations. You are both living up to the attributes you were hired for. I'm thrilled to have you on my team for that reason."

"Thank you, sir." Chris said and meant it.

"In other news," Wesker turned the little computer on his desk toward them. And they were all very aware of what was happening on that screen.

Jill, personally, was about to drop dead in horror. There they were, she thought, just going to town on each other. Although, objectively, is was totally hot. Chris' jackhammer fucking played well on screen. But there was more on that screen that that. She watched Chris spin her and put her against the desk, she watched him grab a handful of her hair, and she watched his face. His face…his face said he loved her. Oh my god. His face said he loved her as he shoved himself into her body and she watched herself buck and scream and go around him. She watched him pull her up and turn her into his mouth, she watched him slide a hand over her heart and a hand over her spine. The love was written all over him, from face to ass to feet.

And she was looking at his ass when she should have been worried about losing hers here. She looked at Chris. He looked at her. They both looked at Wesker.

Wesker was watching them, carefully, in those fucking sunglasses he was always wearing. Jill wondered if he was photophobic or something. His eyes were so pale, maybe he couldn't handle the light.

"Clearly, personal relationships within the unit, although not strictly forbidden, are frowned upon. There are cameras all over this building, of course. So there is likely a record of any previous or further attempts on your parts to…fornicate in inappropriate places."

Chris thought, well, this was probably the most embarrassed he'd ever been. And then he flipped Jill around on Wesker's desk and watched her put that mouth around his cock and suck his brains out and he thought, NOPE, THIS was the most embarrassed he'd ever been.

Wesker continued to watch them. On the screen, Jill was keening high and loud while he hammered her doggy style. Chris was pretty sure he was going to implode here and die from shame. He didn't glance at Jill again. He couldn't.

"Sir…I am having real trouble here finding the right words."

Jill whispered, "We are so sorry. SO sorry."

Wesker considered, looking at them, that one of them was indeed sorry. But he'd watched the footage. He'd seen the aggressor. It was Jill Valentine. She'd come on like a whore, flouncing and fucking like she'd been paid to do it. Redfield was a lot of things but he was a known follower of the rules. She'd flouted them, plainly, painfully. She'd lured and trapped and manipulated. There had been a few notes in her file about that, her ability to disregard the rules when it suited her. She dragged Redfield into her web with her perfect thighs and big blue eyes. It was amusing. And made him think more of her for. It would make it so much easier if she fell in line and followed him but he didn't mind the challenge of winning her loyalty. And the added benefit of being the reason she had to work harder to earn Redfield back to her side as well.

He watched the wrench be thrown between them. This would temporarily drive them out of each other's arms. Clearly. It was for the best. She would have to lose him to appreciate him. And her loss would lure him further into the web she was weaving. Perfect.

He needed the loyalty between them to be unparalleled and coupled with human love. He needed it to weave the seeds of his own destruction here. He wanted to see how far he could push him and how far the girl beside him could be pulled from his side. To do that, he needed to know they were bonded together over him.

But clearly the disrespect could not stand here and had to be brought down upon them like a spanking. A delicate balance of punishment that earned respect while promoting a sense of playing with fire for each other. They'd simply gotten away with it. It was time to remind them who was the boss.

"Hmm. As flattered as I am that you felt the need to…couple…in my office. Do I need to make a point of putting a note in your file regarding it? Or perhaps I should allow Chief Irons to witness it and let him deal directly with your punishment?"

"No. No sir. No. Cheese and rice…no." Chris felt about three inches tall.

"Not long ago myself, I was a young man with appetites so I understand the urges that over come us in regards to adrenaline and survival. Perhaps, in the future, you should better choose your places to resolve those urges. I generally don't feel the need to dissuade personal relationships between members of my team. Should this be an issue? I can transfer one of you to Bravo to alleviate the situation."

Bravo, Chris thought, was the B-Team. Everybody knew that. He wasn't to kick one of them to JV because Jill had thought it would be fun to fuck on her boss' desk. Come now, his mind said, did you say no? Nope. The grunting and hammering sound of skin and sweat on the computer said he'd had a grand old time. Maybe that was the worst part here. He'd not only LET her draw him into it. He'd LOVED it. Always a good boy, he'd gone against the grain to touch her and love her. Jesus. She was his fucking kryptonite. CHEESE AND RICE.

"Do I need to remind you about your duty here? Or do you assume that duty involves fucking in your superior's office like petulant teenagers? Should I be insulted? Have I done something to brook disrespect from you?"

Chris was shaking his head, "No. No sir. No. We were here working. It was late. We were stupid and disrespectful and it was not aimed at you at all sir. At all. It was just more private than out in the bull pen. That's it. I'm mortified. And utterly sorry."

Wesker studied him with a grudging sense of respect. Interesting. He seemed to actually LIKE Chris Redfield. Embarrassed or not, Redfield held his gaze. He wasn't staring at the floor like Valentine. He was looking him in the eye. It took balls. "I believe you, Chris. And I'm not a man without some knowledge of the passion that drives two young people to each other. It isn't my business to tell you not to see each other. It is, however, my business to tell you that it won't be tolerated at work."

"I understand sir. Entirely."

"Can I assume it will NOT be happening again in the future?"

Jill whispered, pale faced, "Yes sir."

"For now, I'm going to have you pull extra duty, together, for the next three nights. There have been disturbances in the park that could be related to the witches we've been tracking. I expect the two of you to patrol until midnight each night after regular duty hours. I suspect you WON'T be using the time to express yourselves sexually. And it would be in your best interest to cease and desist any further sexual escapades while working under my command."

He knew what he was doing here. Telling them NO was like telling them GO. They'd rush and roll and ride that forbidden fruit straight into the pit he was digging for them. It was such a joy to watch the people squirm as you killed them.

Redfield, he thought, what a proverbial boy scout. Always the right answers, always the right moves, always the good boy. Raving reviews, raving responses, everyone loved him. He was highly recommended and clearly respected. She was the only thing that had shaken him professionally, ever. It was a telling sign. And one he would use to crush them both…soon enough.

"I will also expect you use the toothbrushes provided by maintenance to scrub the toilets. All of them. Twice a day in the entire station. Perhaps cleaning the remnants of others bowels will teach you to respect the idea of not shitting where you eat."

Oh my GOD, Jill thought, he was going to make them pull shit duty and DO shit duty. She was so embarrassed. She could feel her face burning.

Her brain said, why? You KNEW there was a chance of getting caught. It was WHY you did it. True, she mused, but she hadn't really thought he'd find out. It was mortifying.

Jill nodded, silent. Chris said, "Yes sir."

"For the time being, perhaps it's best if you are not partnered together on missions. Jill? You will work with Barry. Chris will pair with Joseph. It's best, clearly, for the two of you to remember that a place of work is a place of respect and not a place to moon over a coworker and create a conflict. Professionalism is what I expect. Can I assume I will have that?"

Chris was mortified. Fucking mortified. Awful.

"Absolutely sir. Yes."

Jill nodded.

"That is all. Jill, I'll see you on the mat this afternoon. 2 sharp."

"Yes..sir."

"Dismissed."

They moved back into the office and they were sorta…numb. And very embarrassed. They took their desks. They said nothing.

Around them, of course, talking went on. Joseph was trying to see if he could stick a spitball on Brad's face. Barry was telling the world's longest joke involving a sailor, two call girls, and a chicken. Barry said, "You know?"

Chris rose from the desk and left the office.

Oh.

Jill felt the blast of shame over her face settle in her bones. Shit. It had been her idea and she knew, KNEW, he was blaming himself. Or worse, her mind said, he's blaming you for roping him into it. Chris was so professional. She'd pushed him passed his comfort zone. And she KNEW how important this job was to him.

Was Chris…mad at her?

It was an odd concept.

Jill rose from her desk and followed his path. He was in the bathroom. She hesitated, hesitated, and went in. He was standing by the sink.

"Hey."

His eyes came up and turned to her. "This is the boys bathroom, Jill."

"I know that."

"Never have much care for rules though, do you?"

Shit. Yep. It was her. He was mad at her. She said, softly, "I'm so sorry. I am. I'll go back in there and take responsibility for it. It's all my fault."

Chris shook his head, shook it again. "Stop it. You didn't rape me, Jill. I knew what I was doing. I'm just taking a minute here to think about this."

"Think about what?"

He thought "Think about how loving you might be the thing that kills me"..but he didn't say it. The rules said don't say it.

So he went with ugly truth instead.

"I'm not this guy, Jill. I'm not the guy who throws down on my superior's desk. I don't. What's worse? Wesker could have fired us today and DIDN'T. He's clearly a good man. And we went in there and acted like two stupid teenagers on his desk. HIS DESK. We disrespected our boss. Jesus. I'm THAT guy now."

"No you're not. You're not! I am. Obviously. It was ME. I did it. I kinda…I sorta manipulated you into it."

Chris shook his head and washed his hands. "No, you didn't. But it's pretty clear that it might be time to take a step back here a little."

She felt the trickle of something in her belly. "What?"

"You said it would be bad to get too involved. You were right. Maybe it's time we just…ease back a little."

She looked at his face. "…oh…you're ENDING this."

Chris glanced at her face. They locked eyes. "No. Just…refocusing on the important stuff here. We both NEED this job. I want to do well here too. And I want Wesker to respect me. I can't do that if I'm deep dicking you on his desk."

"No hanky panky at work?"

"Yeah. Definitely. And just…give me a minute to think here. Ok?"

"…you want me to go away?"

"Please."

"…ok."

"Thanks…just…for now."

"Yeah. Sure." She turned and left the bathroom.

So, it wasn't a fight. Not really. But she felt…sad. And hurt. He wasn't her boyfriend or anything like that. So why was she so upset? Why did she feel like her boyfriend just broke up with her?

She put aside and went to the mat to face her boss. AGAIN. To face her boss again. Oy.

The worst day had begun.


	9. Loss of Feeling

**The Devil's Bargain**

* * *

 **Nine:**

 **Loss of Feeling**

* * *

 **Raccoon City, 1997**

* * *

They circled on the mat; teacher and pupil. He wasn't the guy who'd reamed her and made her best friend "dump" her. He was her teacher, her task master, her unflinching leader.

He was in sweat pants and an undershirt. It was the least clothes she'd ever seen him in. Objectively, he was in incredible shape. There was a honed look to him that spoke of discipline.

She was wearing her typical headband and stubby ponytails. She looked sloppy and young. She _felt_ sloppy and young.

Wesker said, "First, understand the rules of what we do here."

"Ok. What are the rules?"

"That is the kicker and the mistake people make when trying to understand it. There are no rules. There is no sense of it when fighting. There are two choices in a fight: win or die. Understanding how easily one can fall to the second allows us to utilize the desire to adhere to the first."

Wesker paused, watching her, "Now…choose. Which will use to guide you?"

She raced at him. He braced and spun, last minute, swept low and took her feet out from her. She went down and rolled back and he caught her hair, slapped her face, and threw her away from him. She skidded, face down on the floor with her butt stuck up in the air.

Awesome, she thought with the first spiral of rage, just what she needed. The icing on her crap cake of failure. First: she loses the best friend. Second: she loses versus the boss that emasculated him. Third?

His hand came down and smacked. He smacked her, hard and fast, on her pert little butt. She froze, horrified.

"If you stick your ass in the air, Jill, someone will slap it down. Get up. And show me what you can do."

Jill rolled, scissored her legs, and leapt up. She threw a punch, spun a kick, dropped low and tried to take his legs. He met each move, reversed it and kicked her in the chest. She went onto her back, skidding across the floor.

She knew it.

She _knew_ he'd been taking it easy on her.

Jill drove her hands behind her back, humped her hips, and leapt up.

They circled.

"The first step here is admitting you know nothing. You are a baby. A child. To learn, you have to let go of what you think you know. There is no white horse, there is no hero, there is no savior. You are all there is. Decide! What drives you? What makes you? What breaks you? And FIGHT for it."

She rushed at him, leapt, and went into a front tuck. She landed, spun a side kick at him, had him catch her foot and throw her out. She rolled through it, reversed, and rolled under him as he jumped. Her foot came up, her leg drove into his groin, and she grabbed his hips and threw him.

Wesker rolled, gaining his feet.

"Good! But not good enough. Forget that rage! I can see it on your face. Forget it! Rage is a fool's bargain. It's the devil's bargain. It offers lies and destroys. Rage will get you killed. Disconnect it and find your center. Chris? He will never fight like you can. He's in his head, in his heart. He's feelings and hope and loss. Forget him. And forget all of it. The only way to win? Forget how it feels to lose."

She came at him again and he waited, spun back, and drove his hip into her. He jerked her forward, turned her face down beside him, slapped her ass twice, twisted and tossed her to her face on the mat. She laid there, breathing with rage.

Jill rolled to her feet, feeling the fire in her blood.

"Let it go, Jill! It will NEVER complete you. You have to let it become a quiet nothing. Look inside you! To the bottom of that pit of rage. There is a quiet darkness there. FIND IT. EMBRACE IT. And you will become what you are meant to become."

"What's that?"

"…unstoppable."

She raced at him and he caught her, sweeping her legs out from under her. He grabbed her arm, rotated it, stole her breath, and drove his elbow into her back. She blocked it, barely, and he kicked her knee. She went to one before him and he slapped her face, grabbed her throat, and threw her to the side.

She came up, shouting her anger. Shaking his head, he braced for it. She swung at him, he blocked. She kicked, he deflected. She drove an elbow, he jerked her arm to toss her away. She spun a back kick, he ducked under it. She simply could NOT hit him.

He yelled, "Stop TRYING to hit me and take me down! NOW!"

"HOLD STILL!"

And now he laughed, amused. She rushed at him, leapt, locked her thighs around his face and threw her body back. She threw him, shouting with the anger behind it. He hit the mat on his back and she leapt on him, straddling him.

She drove a punch toward his face and he deflected it, caught her arm, and drove his own punch into her exposed side. She gasped, lost her breath, and he rolled. His legs scissored, locked around her waist, and threw her to her back. He climbed on top of her and pinned her arms down. He sat on her legs and hips, holding her there.

He said, quietly, "You fuck on my desk. You fight like a fool. You are a child, Jill, all rage and emotion and immaturity. You aren't worth what I can teach you. Not until you can let go of that which binds you to your own mortality."

Wesker rose off her. He glanced down at her. "Tomorrow. 2 p.m. Come here with the right attitude. And show me what you've learned."

She laid there on the mat, breathing hard.

Awesome. This was her day. Losing. She was just losing. How to Fuck Up: The Jill Valentine story. She rolled to her feet and went to shower off.

The duty day came to a very boring close. They were neck deep in paperwork regarding the witch case. It was all reports and reading and book work. Chris and her? No talking. Not a peep. He spoke to Brad, he joked with Barry. He laughed with Joseph. Her? Zippo.

She got home and threw her keys on the counter. She grabbed a beer from the fridge. She should really go to sleep since they had to be back at work at nine a.m. and it was not after midnight. But she just couldn't. She was so mad. She was pissed.

The more toilets she'd scrubbed, hating men and all penises attached to them, the more they'd trudged through park APART no less, the madder she became. How was this ALL her fault? He was blaming her. Like she'd MADE him do it. It was unfair and it was stupid and juvenile.

Her brain said: "you mean like fucking on your boss' desk?" YES. Exactly like that.

She'd panicked. She wanted to get the love off his face and replace it with what? Something else? The naked time worked like a charm. The desk? That was secondary.

She couldn't have him in love with her. She wasn't good enough for a guy like Redfield. She just wasn't. He was home grown and had love and laughter and light in his life. She was just some thief's daughter that had mostly been invisible her whole life.

It was okay to fuck her, but you didn't marry her.

She paused, kinda hating herself for the thought of it. She had the lowest self esteem in history to openly admit she was second class snatch. Testing the theory, out loud, she said, "...guys like Chris Redfield don't marry girls like Jill Valentine."

Yep. That felt right. But it hurt like hell to feel it.

And then, that bastard Wesker, he'd shamed her on the mat too! When did the shaming stop!?

She was just a girl being punched in the face with failure until she was numb from it. That was her roll in life. Second class snatch, unwanted daughter, dude with tits, and failure. That's what she was.

Chris came in the house silently behind her.

Jill gave him a look that might have withered a lesser man. As it was, it made him feel the chill of it in his balls. He started to fill the silence and she simply pointed at him, shaking her head.

Ok. What did that mean? There was no explaining. She shook her head again to keep him silent.

Jill grabbed her beer off the table and left the kitchen. She slammed her door, loudly.

In the kitchen, Chris winced at that sharp snap. She had a right, she did, to be pissed. He was being…cold. And it wasn't in his nature. But he was mad. He was. He was mad at her. She'd…

 _"What?_ " His mind queried. " _She what? MADE you do it? She made you fill her out like an application on the boss' desk? That was HER? Or maybe you're mad because you LOVED it. You LOVED being bad for once. And it doesn't sit well with you."_

That was it. That was it exactly. Being bad? It flipped his switch. And he liked it. It was heady. It was hot. And it was dirty and raw and wrong. And it had felt really fucking good to do it.

He owed her an apology.

He was a good dude. He'd set it right.

He knocked.

"Go away!"

"Don't be such a girl, Jill. Come out please."

She jerked open her door. "I AM a girl, you sanctimonious prick. In case you forgot. "

"I didn't forget." But he was reminded now. Lord. She was freaking out like she as the queen of PMS city. Of course, that thought alone was making Claire sharpen her claws somewhere. He was careful to _think_ it and not say it.

"Stop treating me like a dude with tits. I'm a GIRL. I do girly things like get mad when people _blame_ me for the fucking we _both_ did."

Chris lifted his hands to her. "I'm unarmed, lady. I come in peace here. Don't slap me down for it. Come out and talk to me. I'll let you kick my ass if you want."

"Shut up. And go away. We're not friends anymore."

He blinked at her. "What?"

"We're not. You're…mean. And stupid. And stuck up Wesker's ass. And I don't want to be your friend anymore. So go away. You…brown noser!"

She slammed the door.

Chris stood there, blinking. Girls. Girls were a _PAIN IN THE ASS_. Jill was a girl. She was right. He'd forgotten that girls were a pain in the ass. And that she was one of them.

Oy.

He would not be amused. He wouldn't. But her anger? It felt temporary. It felt girly. It felt...misdirected. Who was she mad at here? Usually she'd just talk to him.

But lately? Things were all about fucking and less about friendship. Another thing he NEVER did. He didn't fuck girls he worked beside. THIS was why.

He knocked again. She opened the door. "Yes?"

"Come out."

"No…assface." She closed the door again.

He twitched his lips and tried the knob. She'd locked the door. Amused, he went into the kitchen to find a screwdriver. But the tools were all in Jill's room.

Chris went back to her door. "Jill, you're being a baby."

"YOU'RE a baby! A big baby. You want your daddy to love you so you don't want to be my friend anymore! FINE! Go away!"

Ok. Now she was just being stupid. She was just being a bitch. He didn't like the bitch side of her. The bitch side was too typical. It was too wounded teen. He hadn't dealt with angry bitch since Claire had been about sixteen.

He'd dealt with that phase by locking Claire in her room until she grew up.

He was betting Jill wouldn't let him lock her in her room...she'd just pick the fucking lock and escape anyway.

From the door, her muffled shout informed him, "You LOVE Wesker! You loooove him! You want to be his butt buddy and his BEST FRIEND! TRAITOR!"

"I NEVER SAID THAT!" Oh. He was shouting now. Great. She was making him mad. And frustrated. He was so god damn laid back that this was just stupid. She was being stupid.

He should just tell her to fuck off and forget about her. He rolled the idea in his head for a moment and hated it. Because, bitch or not, she was his girl. She was his best friend. That part wasn't changing, even when she was acting like a drama queen.

"You said to stay away from you! I'm doing that! GO AWAY!"

"I never said that either!" He tried his Dad's approach and just, roared, "Damnit JILL! GET OUT HERE!"

In her room, Jill put a hand to her chest. Oh, oh, oh. His shouting made her heart race. In a strange way, she liked the shouting. The shouting was so very...what? Lion. So very lion roaring. That's what he was, after all, a lion.

But he could roar all day. She was too mad to forgive him.

So she shouted back, "NO! BEAT IT, REDFIELD!"

Chris licked his teeth, considered. He could do that. He could go away. But he wasn't really a guy who did that. He was, however, a guy who kicked in doors.

He informed her, "Last chance, Valentine."

"No! Fuck off!"

"Open this door, Jill. Now. Or I'll come in there and kick your ass."

"You wouldn't _dare!_ Are you deaf as well as a brown noser? I said NO!"

Usually when a girl said no, it meant no. No was fine if he was trying to stick his hand up her skirt. But he wasn't. He wasn't the type to even attempt that. He was a fucking gentlemen.

And she was a big brat. There was only one way to handle a brat.

She needed her fucking fanny paddled. She was ridiculous. She was such a girl in this moment he wanted to run away and burn the house down with her PMS inside it.

Instead?

He reared back and put his boot to the door. It flew open, smashing into the far wall. After all, he loved her...crazy or not.

"What the hell!"

"I said come out here."

"You did NOT just kick my door down!"

"It's what I do. Now GET OUT HERE."

"NO!"

Sighing, Chris moved into the room and grabbed her. She screamed, flailing her arms like a mad woman. He was laughing, laughing, as he threw her down on the bed. He leapt on top of her and pinned all her arms and legs to her sides.

She glared at him.

"You're being redonkulous here, Jill. I said to give me a minute. I didn't say to be a crazy bitch and stop being my friend."

"I am crazy…I'm also a bitch!"

"Clearly."

"Get off me and go away. I'm gonna move out."

"No you're not. You can't even afford a can of spam. Stop being stupid."

"I'll live in a box under the bridge with the hobos!"

And now he was shaking with laughter on top of her. She was rigid, glaring. "I hate your sense of humor, Red. I HATE IT!"

"No, you don't. You love me."

"I do NOT! I think you're stupid…and fat."

He lifted a brow and rubbed himself against her. "That part is true. I'm fat."

"…you are a pervert! Get off me."

"Stop being a brat."

"You're a brat!" She tried to bite his nose when he rubbed his against hers. He couldn't stop the laugh.

This was the most ridiculous moment of his life. But he'd told her what would happen.

Chris laughed again and rolled off her. She started to get up and he tugged her over his lap on her belly. She reared up, horrified, and shouted, "I will cut your hands off!"

He shrugged, held her down with an arm over her back, and paddled her anyway. She shrieked like a banshee, fuming and kicking her legs as he spanked her ass three times before he pushed her off him.

She sat up, fuming. Her face was red with mortification and rage."I hate you, Chris Redfield!"

"No, you don't Valentine. What the hell is this about?"

He watched her climb to her feet and pace, muttering. This was deeper than just him. What had Wesker said to her on the mat? She was acting like a pissed off prom date.

He leaned back on his elbows, watching her. "What's the dealio, Valentine? You ain't mad at me. Who's got you fumin?"

"You! Get out of my room! You are a total brown noser! And a boohoo baby. You don't come in my room and spank me!"

He tillted his head, "Then stop acting like a brat!"

She shoved his shoulders and nearly knocked him over, and roared, "You TOOK HIS SIDE!"

He gave her lifted brows, "Whose?"

"WESKER! You like him better than me!"

Ok. In all his life, he'd never had this kind of stupidity hurled at him. Admittedly, she was so angry it burned. It was lava. It leaked and left you scrambling to survive. But this was a kind of jealousy he didn't understand.

She was angry that he respected his boss enough to step back from her at work? Who got mad about that kind of thing? Why did she hate Wesker so much?

It was too confusing. He tried to reason with her, "No I don't. He's the boss, Jill. We disrespected him. He deserves better than that. You know I'm right."

"You are a jerk! The second he gave you the stink eye, you cowed. You coward! You just let him walk all over you. You're such a peon. I bet you'd follow him into a burning building if he asked and die at his side."

A curious thing to know she wouldn't. He tilted his head at her, "I would. It's called dedication. He's earned it."

"He's earned nothing. He was GIVEN your position as the boss, Chris. It doesn't make him worthy."

Curious again. What was this? What was under the anger? "Alright. What does it take to earn it from you?"

She shook her head, tearing up and hating it. She pointed at him, "Loyalty. You have to give it to get it back...you were on that desk with me. You were right there...you knew what the cost was...but you threw me under the boss the second he started pointing fingers. We were both bad on that desk, Chris...but it's easier for you to blame me and pretend you're the good guy than to admit you liked it. You liked being bad...you just hate that it makes you look like shit in front of him."

Ouch. He sat for a moment, watching her. He hated that she was right. He hated that he'd come from a history of being the good guy to being the guy who fucked on the boss' desk...and loved it. He hated that the second they were called out on it, he'd run from her like she was on fire.

He hated...that she was right to be angry with him.

He reached for her wrist, chastised, and apologetic for it, "Ok. I'm-"

"No." She jerked her arm away. She shoved his shoulder and surprised him. "No. I knew this is what would happen. I knew it. You drew the line here. So stay on your side of it."

Chris blinked, watching her. She left the room.

He waited and she didn't come back. So he followed her into the living room. She was playing the Playstation. He waited, watching her.

She glanced up and gave him the finger.

"So it's like that?" He queried.

She kept the finger up.

"Fine. You don't want to be friends anymore?"

She pulled the little headphones on her ears off one of them. She kept the finger up. "You started this shit show, Redfield. Take your enormous cock and your sucking up and beat it. I have zombies to kill and no time to waste with a guy who is a complete and utter fucking pussy. See ya."

"You're serious?"

"Yeah." She lifted a brow at him. "I'll pay my half the rent. I'll stay the fuck out of your way. I won't even LOOK at you at work anymore. Sense you think it's my fucking fault and all. You and Wesker can become butt buddies and ride off into the sunset together holding hands and wearing stupid glasses. I'll take my disobedience and my slutty little snatch and mind my own fucking business."

He stared at her. She felt him. She finally looked away from the screen.

"What?" And her tone was nasty and mean.

"You're acting like a baby, Jill. Stop being a bitch."

"So? I'm a girl. I get to do that. You? You're acting like I stuck my hand under your skirt, you liked it, and then your mom caught us. Who's the bitch here? At least I know it wasn't just me on that desk, boyscout. Get the fuck out of here."

She went back to playing, putting her headphones over her ears. He stood there, licking his teeth. Fuck it, he wasn't even going to attempt to apologize now. Let her fume on it and be stupid.

He snorted and rolled his eyes, "Bitches be trippin."

She kept that finger up.

That was it. He was done putting his hand out and having her smack it down. She wanted to be roommates? That was fine with him.

Finally, he shrugged and went to his room.

She heard him close the door.

She was shaking on the couch while she played. The bastard. Both of them. MEN. WHY!? First one humiliates her and then the other abandons her and then wonders why she's mad. MEN! Men were the stupidest things on earth. She hated them. If she had any interest in vagina she'd just become a lesbian.

Fine. She'd do what Wesker wanted. She'd do her fucking job and stay away from Chris. She'd fight like he wanted. She'd play the good girl. Her whole life people had wanted her to fit in a certain mold. She'd always gone her own way and she was living with eighteen dollars in her checking account. Somewhere, Henri was proud. She'd become his daughter after all. Nothing to show for her fucking struggles and nobody who gave a damn about her.

The only person she'd loved was in his room acting like she had the plague.

Her mind said, you heard that right? You said love. You said you love him. You said you loved Chris Redfield. And she did. It was true. He was her guy. She loved him. He got her. He made her laugh. He fucked her like he loved her. Had any man ever touched her like that? Like he loved her? When was the last time someone had kicked in her door to be close to her?

She laid on the couch and hurt. She was sorry she'd hurt him. She was. She'd wanted to keep things light between them. But something had shifted. They loved each other. When had it happened? It was what they'd been trying to avoid.

They? Her mind said. When did he say that? He just agreed to your rules.

You said no I love you. Has he said it?

But he SHOWED it. Damnit. And that was the problem. Why?! Because now she loved him too. That BASTARD! That idiot. She loved him. And it made her hate him a little. She fell asleep on the couch with the game on, wishing she was somewhere fighting zombies instead of lying alone on the couch wishing she was with Chris Redfield.


	10. Nice Guys Finish Last

**The Devil's Bargain**

* * *

 **Ten:**

 **Nice Guys Finish Last**

* * *

 **Raccoon City, 1997**

* * *

She woke up before him for work with the game and television off and a blanket on her. She blinked, touching the blanket. It was hand woven and soft. It was clearly his or his mother's. He'd come out and covered her up.

The wonderful bastard.

She got in the shower and heard him getting up. She ignored it, putting on make up while he moved silently behind her in the tiny bathroom.

She made some toast, paused, and made two extra pieces for him leaving it on the counter with a cup of coffee she poured. He saw it, sighed, and packed a lunch for her.

She took the lunch without a word.

She curled her hair and put on her beret. They brushed their teeth side by side without a sound. They came out of the house and didn't ride together. She took her bike and he took his. They didn't gun engines or race.

They just went to work.

She went to the lobby to get some coffee. He went up to his desk. She came up and found everyone working together. She sat down at her desk and started going through files.

There was no whoopie cushion in her chair.

The day found them scrubbing toilets at lunch. She avoided him. He made no effort to talk to her. He joked with Barry. He threw a spitwad at Brad. Joseph showed him the newest Hustler for the month and they made dirty remarks about the women in it.

She and Barry talked about his girls. Moira, his oldest, was taking dance lessons. She was pretty good apparently. He showed pictures and made them laugh.

At 2 p.m. she was back on the mat with Wesker. He could see the sadness all over her today. He chastised her and kicked her ass. She fought half assed and pathetic.

Wesker slapped her face. She drove a kick at him. He knocked her away. He threw an elbow and she surprised him. Even in her stubborn sullenness, she was strong. She caught his elbow and punched him, hard, in the side. He lost his breath.

He lifted his eyes to her face, "What drives you, Jill Valentine?"

She met his eyes. "Today? Nothing."

It was a good answer. She was starting to see the benefits of emptiness. Maybe he'd been wrong. Maybe losing Redfield would push her to be the best she'd ever been. Maybe she needed to lose the softness in her to find the steel.

Something flickered in him. He considered it, rolled it in his brain. Ah. It was interest. She interested him. More than any other. More than Chris Redfield who was, in a way, his obsession. He wanted to know what drove Chris, what made him, what bled him. But Jill? He wanted to know what it would take to make her turn on everything she cared about. Did she have a trigger?

Could he seduce her to earn her loyalty? Had Redfield won her that way? Was it a matter of human touch and emotion? He could pantomime such a thing. He could woo her and win her to his side. He'd been acting his whole life. But he didn't think it was that easy. The human heart was a mystery to him. He couldn't pretend to know what love was. He didn't feel it. Couldn't understand it. To fake it, he would need to know how to pantomime it. You couldn't fake what was between her and Chris. It was very real. And very interesting.

He'd been intimate with women all his life. He'd pretended to care. He'd even let his body explore itself sexually on more than one occasion. He'd dated to please the eyes of the world and to allow his body to find release. He'd taken Anita Muller to his bed on more than one occasion.

Anita, he mused, what a woman. She'd been young and delightful. She'd been beautiful. She'd come from Edonia with nothing. She was looking for a chance. He was looking for a beautiful woman to hang on his arm. He'd played her like a fiddle. He'd been as fond of her as he could have been given the state of what he was. She'd looked at him with red, red hair and her big green eyes and he'd wanted to, briefly, own her. So he'd put himself between her thighs and satisfied his body and her want of him. And then she'd talked about marriage. She'd mentioned children. He'd been unable to hide anymore beneath the armor of his own emptiness and she'd seen he didn't love her. So she'd run away. He hadn't seen her in…six years. She was, possibly, the only woman that lingered a bit like regret in his mouth. If he'd been able to feel anything, he might have felt it for Anita Muller.

Jill leapt on him and he caught her against his front. He held her there, studying her face. Was that part of this? She looked like Anita. She had the shape of her eyes and her body. She had the fire. Was there some interest in her because of that? He waited for his body to react sexually to her. And there was nothing. No. It wasn't that. But it was possession. He wanted to own Jill Valentine.

He needed her emptied of everything for that. He needed to have something to bargain with. The time would come.

She elbowed him in the face and kneed him in the stomach. He grabbed her arm, rotated, and kicked her in the side. She spun back, spun low, and took his feet. It threw him to his back. She tried to do a heavy knee drop on him and he rolled. He kicked her in the chest and she gasped, curling around the pain.

"I can feel your hate. Who do you hate Jill? Me? Or yourself?"

She rushed him.

He knocked her down and held her there. His pale, pale eyes made her feel broken and weak. He said, "Find your strength, Jill. Or give up."

She said nothing. He let her go. "Tomorrow."

"Fine."

He watched her leave the gym and wondered if he'd pushed them too hard. He turned and there was Redfield, standing in the far doorway. He'd been watching. He'd been there for her even if she'd never known.

No. Not too hard, he mused. Just hard enough. She was Redfield's Anita. Wesker smirked and moved to rinse himself free of sweat in the showers.

Jill went into the women's locker room and showered off. No one stole her towel and forced her to leave the room naked until she found her clothes. No one fucked with her. Because Chris wasn't her friend anymore.

She went back to her desk. They were all there working. She went to the board to work on patterns for the witch hunter murders. She studied diagrams of voodoo and ritual.

Chris stepped up beside her. He pointed, "This is the connection. See?" He pointed out the last two markers. "If they lay two more? They'll have closed the circle."

"Any way to know what or where?"

"I'm working on it."

"Hmm. Good luck with that. Let me know if I can help."

She went back to her desk. He watched her, saying nothing.

They went on patrol. She stayed on her side of the park. A fine rain was falling, splattering her face and hands with cold droplets. The park was large and beautiful. The clock tower loomed above it, offering a view of the coming storm. The clock tower gonged midnight.

She turned back to cross the pretty walkways. A hobo was sleeping on a bench in the rain. Jill found some newspaper and covered him up. She considered and tucked her last ten bucks in his sleeping hands. He opened one eye and smiled at her. She smiled back and patted his dog that stalwartly sat beside the bench.

She crossed the walkways and stopped. Chris was standing there, watching her.

"What?"

"Was that your last ten bucks?"

"Yeah? So?"

"Why?"

"He needs it. I don't. I've sat there on the bench with no roof and no money and no food. Nobody helped me. So I did." She passed by him.

He said nothing but followed her. She threw one leg over her bike and gunned the engine.

"You gonna wear your helmet?" She glanced at him as he called to her over the rain.

"You gonna pretend to care if I don't? Go home, Redfield. I can take care of myself." She peeled away from the curb.

He watched her go and sighed. Girls. Somebody save him from the trouble of them. She was a pain in the ass. Why was he bothering with her?

Because she'd given a homeless guy the only money she had.

Because she gave shit like a man and made him laugh. Because she fucked like a porn star and brought out dirty parts of him he'd never have touched without her. Because she was his best friend in the world. And he missed her.

She was in her room with the door closed when he got home. He threw together something to eat and opened her door. She watched him from her bed where she was reading.

He sat the plate and the sandwich on it down beside her and put a beer on the nightstand adjacent to her side of the bed. He said, "I covered your bike up. The storms supposed to be pretty bad so I covered it and put against the back with mine."

"..thanks."

"Sure. Night."

He closed her door.

She sighed and missed him.

She got up around midnight, unable to sleep, and made brownies. She put a plate with two on his nightstand. He rolled over about 2 a.m. and saw it. He sighed and rolled on his back, watching the shadows on the ceiling.

He shifted out of the bed and went to check on her. She was sleeping on the couch again with the t.v. on. He picked her up and carried her back to her bed, tucking her in.

The storm came and stayed into the morning. They got ready for work. They moved around each other easily. It was fine, Jill mused, this is what people did when they got ready for work. It was what roommates did. They existed but they didn't have to be friends to do that.

She was brushing her teeth and moved aside so he could too. She said, "I plugged the hole in the basement where the leak was. May want to call the landlord though and get someone to fix it."

"I'm sure you did great. I've never seen anyone who can fix shit like you." He spit in the sink and she smiled a little.

"Thanks."

"Sure."

Jill rinsed her tooth brush and said, hesitantly, "Thanks for the sandwich last night."

"You bet. Thanks for the brownies."

"...no problem. Did you...put me in bed?"

"Yeah. You looked cold." He rinsed the sink and missed her frown, "You want a ride to work? I don't like the idea of you riding that bike in the pouring rain."

Touched, she nodded. "Sure. Thanks."

"Yep."

Jill went into her room to get dressed. He sighed and wondered if she'd ever speak to him again like they were friends.

* * *

At work, they were friendly and talkative to everyone else. They were polite to each other. They did target practice all morning and Wesker had them cleaning toilets and then running simulations all afternoon.

She was writing down numbers on a report when the STARS office door opened and one of the rookies from Vice came in. She grinned at him. Manny Rodriguez was a pretty funny guy. He was always hitting on her. She was always quick to deflect. She considered and figured today was the day she'd say yes.

Joseph chuckled, knowing the game well. Manny struck out at least twice a week with Jill. Objectively, he was a good looking dude. Tall and thin with a tattoo on his neck of some kind of Mexican catholic thing. But he wasn't pretty enough for Jill. They constantly ribbed her on her love for pretty boys. Ryman had made sense. This guy? No way.

Barry snorted.

Brad was grinning waiting for the rejection.

Jill didn't bother to look at Chris. She grinned, leaning back in her seat now.

"Hey Manny."

"Hey Jill. You gonna let me buy you dinner today?"

"Yep."

Brad choked on his coffee. Barry lifted a brow. Joseph nearly tumbled out of his chair.

Manny, temporarily shell shocked, recovered with aplomb. He leaned on her desk, grinning. She smiled back. "Yeah?"

"Sure. You've earned it. I've got to pull extra duty tonight. But tomorrow I'm free since it's Saturday. You want to make a day of it?"

"You bet. It's the Umbrella Days Parade this weekend. The rain might fuck it up but we can give it a good anyway if you want."

"Love to. How's ten thirty Saturday morning?"

"Awesome."

"Cool. Pick me up at my place."

"Great!" Manny stood up, grinning like a mad man. He left the office the same way. Jill kept started typing on her computer.

The room was silent.

Brad said, finally. "What the fuck man?"

"What?" Jill filled out a word processing sheet with figures, "He's cute."

Barry said, "You've been blowing him off for months. What gives?"

Jill shrugged, "Feels like time to move on."

Joseph smirked, "Ohhhh. You were seeing somebody. Things go bad?"

"You could say that. We…had a difference of opinion on what was happening with us. He pulled the plug. So I'm bouncing with it."

Joseph nodded, "That's the shits, Valentine. Been there. Mary? She dumped me last week. Bitch. I bought her a fucking ring."

Barry slapped his shoulder sympathetically, "Dude. I wondered. I'm sorry man."

"It's cool. She was a total rag lately anyway. I'm following Jill. I'm gonna go get some easy ass and forget her."

Jill smirked, "Right? Forget giving a fuck about the person. Just go out there and get laid."

"Preach it." Joe turned back to his simulation. Brad snickered. Barry was playing Tetris now.

She felt Chris watching her and ignored him. She worked on her witness reports for the burglary on Bleaker Street. She didn't have mat practice with Wesker on this rainy Friday because he was away on donor recruitment business with Irons.

So at 2 p.m. she went instead down into the lobby to sit by the fountain and take a break. She leaned on it and ran her fingers through the water. She watched the rookies milling about like lost souls. She thought about what she was doing here.

She was moving on right? That's what this was. Chris had drawn the line, she was just giving him the space to stay on his side. Her mind said, he's been trying to make up with you. Don't be a bitch. That was…true. Maybe it was time to make nice again.

She rode with him to the park. He parked the Bronco and she said, into the quiet car while the rain pounded around them, "I'm sorry."

He glanced at her face. She met his eyes. "I'm sorry about being a rag. You hurt my feelings. I overreacted."

Chris shook his head and tried to touch her…and she leaned away. It hurt him. So he drew back from her. He said, quietly, "I'm sorry too. I am. It wasn't your fault. I wanted to go in that office. I wanted to do it. I just blamed you because I'm a fricking asshat who can't take responsibility for his own stupidity. It's not you. I'm not mad at you. I wish you'd stop being mad at me."

Jill smiled a little, "Not mad. Just trying to be a grown up and stop pouting. Friends?"

"Yeah. Of course."

"Cool. Let's do this." She leapt out of the Bronco.

He sighed. He rolled his neck. He ran a hand over his mouth. Fuck. This is why you didn't fuck your friends. What a mess. He opened his door and got out.

At midnight, they gathered back in the Bronco and rode home. He wanted to hear her laugh. He wanted to hear her say anything that was real. He fucking missed her.

She went off toward bed and he grabbed her hand. She looked at his face. "Stay. Please."

"Ok."

"I need help with the zombie dogs."

Jill watched his face in the dim light. She sighed and sat down beside him on the couch. They played the zombie game together.

"Go LEFT." Jill shouted at him as he played.

"I went left!"

"No. You went around the LEFT BEND. If you stay there in the garage? That stupid bitch in the dress comes out and kicks you."

"Well maybe she shouldn't be running around a parking lot in a dress and four inch heels. What kind of idiot fights zombies in a dress and heels?!"

"What kind of idiot just stands around fighting zombies?"

"Right? RUN."

"I'd never run from zombies. I'd make them my bitch."

He laughed and she shifted a little on the couch. Her head settled on his shoulder. His laid on hers, just a little.

They fell asleep on the couch playing the game. He woke up in the early morning light to find she'd covered him up before she'd gone to bed. He sighed and missed her.

The rain had lessened when she came out of her bedroom for her date that morning. He was in the garage hitting the heavy bag hanging there. The soft and gray light from the open garage door spilled in as she stepped out to wait for Manny.

His hands were taped and his torso naked and sweaty. She watched him hit the bag like he'd kill it. His form was technically perfect. He jabbed, hooked, swung and moved around it like a boxer. She watched those muscles bunch in his arms, back, and stomach. She stood near the garage door and smoked a cigarette.

He paused, panting and cooling down. She was in some excuse for an outfit. It was a little red thing with straps and no bra. No bra. Her perky full breasts in something that silky and nearly underwear. She shifted, watching the rain, and he could see the thigh highs she was wearing and the clasp for the garter belt that was clearly on those perfect hips. She had on some kind of strappy black shoe that made her legs look ten feet long.

Jill had done something to her short dark hair so that it was all curly and twisted up around her face. She had enough eyeliner and make up to highlight those cheekbones and the brilliant blue of her eyes. She lifted a brow at him. "What?"

"Nuthin. You look good."

"Thanks."

"Nervous?"

"Nope."

A bead of sweat rolled down his neck and settled in the suggestion of hair on his chest. They held gazes. A silver Mazda pulled up and idled in the street and honked.

Chris lifted a brow. "What a guy. Honking so he doesn't get wet."

"Some guys don't like getting wet I guess."

She glanced at him soaked in sweat. He held her gaze. No bullshit, she thought, damn him. "Some guys do."

"Yeah. Until they get a spanking for it. Then? They're just like the rest of them."

Ouch.

He shook his head, laughing a little. But it wasn't funny. It was just bitter. "Have fun, Jill."

"You too." She tossed the cigarette. "See ya."

He kept on hitting the bag long after she'd gone. Why? What was happening here? They'd said sorry. It was done. Why were they still of course here? What did she want from him?

His mind said: what do you want from her?

Well he loved her. And he wanted her around. What that meant? Who knew.

And he didn't have time to worry about it. Claire was pulling up in the rain. He watched her leap off her bike and grin. She ran into the garage, pulling off her helmet. He grinned, watching her.

She had the longest hair of any girl he'd ever met. The red ponytail trailed against her butt as she moved to hug him. And stopped.

"Ew."

"Thanks."

"Whatcha doin home on a Saturday?"

"Workin out. What else? What about you? No dudes dangling off your fingers this weekend?"

In her jeans and a motorcycle jacket, his baby sister didn't look like a baby anymore. She was all grown up and beautiful with it. She leapt up on the workbench he had and lit up a smoke. He eyed her, disproving.

"Pfft. You want one?"

"…yeah." He took one and they lit up together. Somewhere their parents were judging them for it.

Claire grinned, "Only room in my life for one boy today, Redfield. Where's your better half?"

Chris shrugged and grinned at her, "Date."

Ah. Claire studied his face. That was the pain there in those eyes. The big squish. He was all about that girl. Why weren't they just together already? She inhaled a long drag of that nasty cigarette she was smoking.

"Hmm. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Surprised, he met her eyes. "Come again?"

"Don't be a doofus, Chris. What are you doing? Just get the girl."

"She don't want to be "got", Claire. Think I can make her want me?"

Claire looked at him, considering. She shook her head. "I've seen her look at you. She wants you. Why aren't you together?"

"It's not what she wants."

They moved into the house together and Chris closed the garage. Claire followed him into the living room and they flopped on the couch. She tossed her jacket in the recliner.

"Says who?"

"Jill."

"Not to put too fine a point on it but I don't think she knows what she wants."

"No. She's a fucking mess." He turned on the game and they played together for awhile. She laughed as the female character in the game was blown up by a grenade.

"That's what that bitch gets for wearing a dress."

"That's what I said man!"

Chris burped and offered her the plate of nachos they were sharing. Claire took one and scooped up some jalapeno cheese. She glanced at him, "What's the rule on farting?"

"Fire in the hole, kid."

"Cool."

She blasted the sofa with one and made him laugh. He loved her, the little shit. She put her head on his shoulder as they shifted to watch reruns of Saved by the Bell.

"You love her." Not a question. She just said it. He sighed.

"Yeah. Not that simple though. I promised her."

"Chris, slow and steady is good for a race where you're holding a spoon and carrying an egg. But when it comes to love? Slow and steady gets you stuck in the friend zone."

Chris shrugged but stared at the pouring rain beyond the window. "Well that's what you wants."

"She's a fucking idiot than."

"Stop it. She's not."

"You deserve better. Forget her. And go find a nice girl to marry."

"Shit…now you sound like Mom."

Claire laughed a little. He lifted his arm and she moved under it. She could tell he needed a hug. She put her head on his chest. "I miss them."

The rain started to pick up, sounding thick and heavy now on the roof. He said, quietly, "Me too, kid. Me too. Every fucking day."

"They'd want you to be happy."

"I'm happy."

"Pfft. Liar."

"I'm mostly happy."

"Then go take what makes you happy, Chris. You and I both know there's nothing in life worth waiting for. Go get it. Or you'll be forty five one day and watching the woman you love marry the wrong guy."

It was a frightening thought. He wondered what kind of ugly mess he'd be when he was that fucking old. Probably a fat security guard in a mini mall somewhere with eight kids and a pudgy wife that nagged him all the time. Scary.

The scariest part? He wanted his pudgy nagging wife to be Jill.

It was a hard road being a guy who kept his promises.


	11. Funhouse

**A/N:** _In the original version, there was some question of the back and forth between Jill and Chris about finding out who and what they are to each other. I explain that away here by reminding everyone that at this stage in their life they're YOUNG and FULL OF FEELINGS. So they go all over the place trying to decide if they're meant to be friends or lovers or partners or nothing. Like any relationship, they bounce around until they find their path together. So Jill gets a little break for being a scared girl trying to love a boy she thinks is too good for her. Stay with her, I promise she comes around to be what he deserves. Don't forget, Capcom gives us nothing to go on about feelings with these two - so I take liberties to make them who they are. The shell isn't mine, but the character inside is. Thank you, as always, for reading._

* * *

 **The Devil's Bargain**

* * *

 **Eleven:**

 **Funhouse**

* * *

 **Raccoon City, 1997**

* * *

She got home after midnight. It was pouring down rain and Manny didn't bother to walk her to the door. She ran to the front door and got soaked.

There was more than one reason she wasn't going to see him again. He was ok. But he was missing the common decency to walk her to the door and use an umbrella to keep her from getting wet.

She let herself in and saw Claire sleeping on the couch. Smiling, she covered her up with the blanket on the floor. Jill locked up the house and went toward her bedroom.

She kicked off her little shoes and caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror over her dresser. Her make was running in black streaks down her face. She wondered what she was doing. What was happening here? She'd lost her fight.

Why?

Since when was she the type to just give up?

She was failing at things here. She was disappointing her boss. Disappointing herself. She'd pushed aside the only friend she'd ever had. She was so lost.

Sighing, she left her bedroom. She went into Chris' and looked at him. He was sound asleep and twisted in his blankets and sheets. The window was open beside his bed and the roll of rain and thunder was soft and luminous. Lightning cast a streak of silver over him.

Jill closed his door behind her and crawled across the bed. She shifted the sheets and the blankets and curled against his back. She wrapped her arm over his waist and put her face against the warm skin of him.

He started to roll over to say something funny and he felt her shift a little. And she started to shake. And then he felt the wetness.

He froze, listening to the pouring rain on the roof. Thunder rumbled quietly. And he realized she was crying.

She was crying against his back.

He closed his eyes and held them. His hand came up and curled over hers against his chest. It killed him to hear her do it. He'd have cut off a nut to keep that from happening. He hadn't meant to hurt her so badly. She was his buddy, his pal, his best friend in the world.

She was the cat's pajamas and the coolest chic he'd ever met. She was it. And he'd blamed her for being the coolest chic he'd ever met. It was stupid. And he wasn't that guy either. He didn't do vindictive shit like that. He didn't dwell in regret and he didn't try to hurt people for being who they were. He rolled. He bounced. He was the guy who shook it off and kept going. And he'd hurt her for being the girl that didn't give a fuck about the rules.

He was a hypocrite.

And it was galling and humbling to admit it.

He rolled to face her. She made some sound and covered her face. Broken, he wrapped his arms around her. She whispered, hiccupping, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so stupid."

"Jilly Bean, you're not stupid. I'm stupid. I'm sorry."

"I'm letting everyone down." It was a soft little whisper on a heavy sob.

"Never. You hear me? Never. Jill…Jill…damnit…." He pulled he face up to him and kissed her. She made a sound and grabbed his face.

She tasted salty and sweet. He poured himself into her. He tried to give her all that need and want and strength in him for her. She made a sound and gripped his hair in her fingers.

He started to delve his tongue into her mouth, fast and hungry, and she shook her head. She shook her head and shifted. She held his face. He caught her eyes in the flash of lightning.

His hands moved, slow, he found her little panties beneath her dress and slid them down her legs. She rose and his hands found the hem of her dress. He pulled it over her head. She was in that little garter belt and thigh highs. She curled her hands around him and drew him to her. They kissed, soft and wet on their knees.

Jill held his face. He curled a hand up into her hair, shaking loose the little bobby pins that held it. It tumbled into a curly mess around her face. He skimmed a thumb over the tears on her cheek. Her make up was smeared, her hair was a curly mess, and she was beautiful. She was perfect.

He put that in his face. He let her see it. He let her feel it.

But he didn't say it.

He'd made her a promise not to say it.

She whispered, holding his eyes, "I'm sorry, Chris."

"No sorry. No more sorry. Not here and now." He slid his hand over her and dipped his fingers into her. She made a soft sound and was already moist and excited for him.

God she was perfect.

He knew he should get a condom now. Now…and didn't.

She must have sensed his hesitance because she reached for the nightstand and he caught her wrist. He shook his head. They watched each other in the warm darkness...and curled their hands together instead.

Her breath hitched twice at what it meant. She knew what it meant. He'd told her.

She pushed him onto his back and rose over him. He watched her, touched her, and she put her mouth to him and stole a piece of him he'd never get back. The rain was soft and quiet now and the sound of their bodies was the perfect compliment.

His thumb slid against the moist folds of her, stroking her clit while she gasped. She took him in her hand to rub him against her, teasing them both with it. It was like she was waiting for him to change his mind.

But he let her rub the head of his dick against her eager little cunt and he didn't stop her. He didn't tell her no. He wanted to feel her. He wanted to love her.

He just wasn't sure how.

She took the fat head of him and trembled, thighs quaking. It was a sharp angle with her on top, but here and now? It mattered to her to be the one who did it.

He watched her go, watched her move. She was pale and soft in the shadowed light. He cupped her breasts, holding them while she slid down and over him and took him into her body. Smooth, easy, he fit perfectly there inside of her.

She gripped handfuls of his chest to hold on as she sank down until she rested on his groin and he was buried in her.

Someone hissed, "Cheese and rice..." And it was him. Of course it was him.

It was kinda like losing his virginity in a way, because he'd never been inside a woman unprotected. He'd never wanted to. Not really. Not like Jill.

She was a girl. She was _his_ girl. He just didn't know how to keep her.

Jill quaked over him, spine trembling, hands stroking and squeezing his chest as her body adjusted to him. Her mouth was an O of surprise and want. He dragged her down by the back of her neck to kiss her and she lifted her hips and slid back down on him.

She keened. She gasped and her hands clutched his face to kiss him. He whispered, hoarsely, "It's ok...it's ok, honey. We can stop."

Honey. Honey. An endearment. A soft one. A sweet one. Like this moment, honey. Honey when she was with him. She shook her head, rolling her hips. It pushed him against the walls of her body, stretching her, causing her pain and pleasure and turning her slick and sticky around him as her body welcomed him, pulsing like a fist.

"...no. No. Don't stop, ok? Don't."

He nodded, clutching her to him. She was shaking above him, quivering...but it wasn't all her either. Even that? Even that was both of them.

She gasped, high pitched, "How...how do I feel?"

What a question. He wasn't sure there were words for it.

She gloved his body and she was wet and slick and tight and everything he'd known she'd be. It wasn't desperate, it wasn't pain or slapping or screaming. It was deep and sharp and perfect. It pierced and bled where it stuck, the spear of this moment, the spear of this need. He sat up, spilling her into his lap a little more.

And he avowed, "...fucking perfect."

Maybe there were words after all.

They moved together. She made soft sounds of need now, gasps and little moans. Her thigh highs were smooth and silky against him. He gave her the sound of her name on a groan and she gave him the taste of her tongue for it. They curled and cushioned the want for each other.

And he felt her slide her hand around and put it over his chest.

He drew back to look at her. She had her hand over his heart.

Fuck.

He was done.

That was it. He put his forehead against her chest and his ear over hers.

She wrapped her free hand in his hair. They moved faster now, deeper, harder. She made a sound like a keen. He lifted his knees enough to drive her tighter on his thrusting body. The angle was perfect, gliding and grinding over that spot inside of her that made them both insane for it.

She watched him hold her and mold her to him. Her breasts cushioned his head as he listened to her heart race for him. Jesus. She was so scared of him.

Not him...but this. This moment. It scared her to death. She'd never wanted anything more than to matter to someone. But she was afraid he'd leave her in the cold if she did.

His hand slid between them. He stroked her in time with his thrusting. She gasped, gripping his hair. He shifted his legs enough that she was cradled against him, around him, and angled in a way that put him thrusting somewhere close to her belly button or something.

It brought her cry higher and more desperate. His thumb stroked, his mouth slid and suckled her left nipple, drawing it into his teeth.

And she fell apart around him.

Jill came, bowing, and rising and falling atop him as her body wrapped itself wet and slick around his shaft. He made some desperate sound and kissed her. He kissed her right over her heart. She felt the tears in her eyes.

She felt him tighten. She knew he was close. He was so close. He'd pull out, he was too much a gentlemen to cum in her. He'd pull out.

But he didn't.

His hands gripped her arms above the elbows to lift her and lower her on his body. When it wasn't fast enough, he bowed her back enough to angle her hips toward him and bound her hands behind her back with one of his. He shifted one hip in a way that braced her against the headboard and sandwiched her against his groin. She wasn't sure how, but the angle put him so far inside of her it felt like her skin would split and welcome him into her bones.

She wasn't able to stop her mouth. It made a continuous litany of _ohohohoh_ and that keening noise that was high pitched and needy. Her body was so wet around him she wondered if someone had brought the rain inside.

He angled a kiss at her mouth and his voice was hoarse when he breathed, "I miss you, Jill. I miss you."

Jesus. Her heart choked a little mewl of want out of her and she gasped, "...show me. Ok? Show me."

He kissed her between her breasts, over her heart, and broke it while he healed it.

And he wasn't done. She felt him pulse inside of her. She felt him tighten.

Show me, she'd said, show me. He only knew one way.

He pulled her down against him and kept his mouth there against her chest as he cursed, ground inside of her body hard enough to make her gasp his name, and spilled himself there inside of her. He let go of her hands and she grabbed his face and he came in her.

It was the only way he knew to show her.

The surprise made her breathe his name and clutch at him. The spurt of him inside her was so hot, incredible, almost feverish. His hand shoved her left leg up at the knee to roll the feel of him there inside of her.

Shivering, Jill and rode his body a little harder for it with the excitement. Chris gripped her little butt and swirled her on him. Like what? Like he was mixing their juices or something? Christ.

It should have been perverted, but it wasn't. It was just good.

He was nuts for her.

Damnit.

He held her while they both came down together.

Now she'd run, he thought, now she'd run. It was her way. She pulled his face up to her and kissed him.

He shivered, holding on.

"I missed you."

He put his ear over her heart again. She stroked his hair. He said, softly, "...yeah?"

"Oh, yeah. Oh, yes. You came in me."

Shit. He lifted his head to look at her in the dark. "I did. Is that-"

She covered his mouth and shook her head, "I'm on the pill. I promise. And...thank you. I mean it. Maybe we don't fight anymore."

Jill let go of his mouth and he said, "No. No more fighting."

"You're my guy, Chris. I need you around."

"Looks that way, Valentine. I have that effect on the ladies."

She laughed a little and he leaned back to smile at her. "Stay with me tonight."

"Where the hell else would I go? This is my house."

She slapped his sweaty chest. He laughed and kissed her. It was smooth and soft and a little wet. He rolled her back beneath him.

"These fucking thigh highs. Torture. You wear that get up to kick me in the balls?"

"Maybe. Did it work?"

"Like a charm. I simultaneously wanted to fuck you standing and kick that guys ass."

"Perfect."

Chris settled between her legs and she wrapped her arms around him. They were quiet as the rain fell outside the windows and cocooned them inside together. Finally she said, "Still my best friend?"

"Always. Who else would I take baths with?"

"Claire is out there."

"That is the grossest thing you've ever said to me."

Jill laughed and lost her breath as he suckled on one of her breasts. He rubbed his nose between them, pushing them together to pillow around his face. She shivered, watching him.

"Chris?"

He looked up at her, face soft, "Jill?"

"...I don't know if we can just stay friends."

That was the weirdest confession a girl had ever given him. He didn't smile, but it was close,"Why not?"

"I have feelings for you."

Lord. THAT was almost like a Valentine version of "I love you." He nodded, and licked her breast again. She trembled a little.

"Whatever you want, Jill. I told you that."

She shivered a little, "You're ok with...maybe waiting to see what this is?"

"Sure. You're the coolest chic I know, Jill Valentine. You asking me to be your guy?"

"You're already my guy. I think I'm asking you to be…patient. And maybe to wait a little bit. I just...I'm scared. So maybe just...maybe you just wait a little bit."

They held eyes in the soft lightning strike that echoed with thunder close by. He shifted his body and slid into her. She was still wet from before. She gasped and her body closed around him.

Jesus. He wasn't kidding. Condoms weren't necessary at all when you were his girl.

She took that as a yes as he caught her hands, put them over her head, shifted her hips a little and watched her gasp and bow…and rode her into the mattress beneath him. Yeah, she thought as she went up and started making a soft cry, yeah that was a big yes.

It wasn't I love you, he thought as he increased the pace and heard the soft slap of their bodies together that thrilled them both, but it was close.

He was a patient man. He wasn't going anywhere.

And they had all the time in the world.

* * *

Sunday morning she woke up in his bed.

It wasn't raining any more. The sun had spilled bright and high into the room. She glanced at the clock. It was almost nine. It was also Umbrella Days all weekend. She wanted to go.

She rolled over and caught a look of herself in the mirror.

She looked…she gasped. Awful. Terrible. Her face looked like Pennywise from IT. She was terrible. Her makeup was everywhere. It was all over the pillow she'd slept on.

Jill rose naked from the bed and hurried to the bathroom. She could hear him and Claire in the kitchen laughing and cooking. She leapt in the shower to wash off.

In the kitchen, Claire said, "Better?"

"Better." He fried eggs, whistling.

"She slept with you."

"Looks that way."

Claire lifted her brows at him. He lifted them back.

"…gross."

"What?"

"Were you nailing your girlfriend while I slept on the couch?"

"Maybe."

"Gross."

Chris laughed and put the food down in front of her. Claire went to town on it. He laughed and watched her. She was the light in the dark for him. Their parents death had bonded them. Always at odds, it seems they'd forgotten that the day Jack and Siobahn had died. She flipped her hand and he gripped it.

"Don't be stupid here, Chris. I told you to go after her...but I honestly thought she'd shoot you down and you'd get over her. She'll hurt you if you let her."

"She's a girl, Claire. Not a grenade. I think I can handle it."

"You ever met any girls, big guy? We're ALL grenades."

"True…fucking…story. Speaking of which, who are you exploding on these days?"

"Josh in Bio. Sex on a fucking stick."

"….utterly disgusting. Keep it in your pants, C-Bear. Or I will barf."

"Can't do it, Chris. Can't do it. I have a hard on for him."

"What?"

"A total chic boner. I have one for him. Like Jill has for you. I want to rock his woooorld."

Chris shuddered in disgust and went to get dressed for the day. He considered carefully what to wear. He had about five shirts and a series of old jeans. He was a classy guy. Laughing, he threw on something and went to brush his teeth.

Jill was singing in the shower. He prepped her toothbrush and poked it through the curtain.

"Thanks dude."

"Yup yup."

Jill poked her head out at him. "You want to get in here?"

He considered for a moment. Claire was shouting obscenities at the zombie game in the living room. "Uncle fucker! What WAS that?! A giant POOP!?"

Chris kicked the door to the bathroom closed. "You convinced me."

Jill laughed as he got in the shower, still dressed. "I think you missed a step."

They were both laughing as he put her against the wall to kiss her.

Claire, in the living room, was speculative. She liked Jill, she did. She was as fun as she was mouthy and spunky. But this was gonna end badly. Her brother? BIG squish. He played it hard and fast and loose. He was all kinds of soft.

Jill was all kinds of dirty. She could see BAD GIRL written all over her. She was motorcycles and tattoos and blowjobs under the desk at work. She was a bad girl. In a good way, Claire should know as she kinda was one herself. But not the right girl for a big squish. She wouldn't mean to, but she was going to crush him.

So…it hurt her to do it, but she needed to break them up. Chris would survive it. But Jill was bad news. She was going to lead him down some ugly little path and get him fired…sorta like she almost had already. But she would get him fired and then drop kick him right in the fucking heart.

So she had to go. It was time. Chris was all heart in a big package. He was their Dad. And he was their Mom. And? He was Claire's world. Chris needed babies and trips to Disney World. He needed car pool and grandkids on the porch. Jill? She was one bad chess move away from the unemployment line and living her life as a roadie to some bad guitarist in a garage band. No. She would NOT see Chris get knocked down like that. She liked Jill. A lot. But she wasn't right for him. So Jill? She had to go. Claire shot the bitch on the video game as she rushed her and said, quietly, "Sorry Jill. See ya."

He took them to the parade. Fun was putting it mildly. They rode rides, they played games. Chris DESTROYED them at the shooting games. He tried to play fair and shot behind his back with one eye closed. He still killed them.

Claire got the giant Panda for his efforts. She had to carry it on her back like a dead body because it was so huge. The giant banana was still waiting to be won though. Jill slapped his hands while he was eating an ice cream cone and it splatted on the ground.

He lifted a brow at her, "You kidding me?"

"Nope."

"So that's how it is?"

"Is there any other way?"

She got a hot dog during one of their many trips back from the rollercoasters. When she took a bite, she choked on it. It was DRENCHED in pepper. She was choking and coughing as he slapped her back and laughed.

She attacked him and he caught her, picking her up against his body and pinning her hands to his chest. She was laughing and choking and coughing. And Claire thought…FUCK. Because his face said he loved her.

He loved the bad girl.

What a fucking idiot.

Jill went to the bathroom to rinse her mouth. Claire held his gaze. He lifted a brow at her. "What, C-Bear? I got foods on mah face?"

"You doofus. You bumbling butt breath doofus."

"Most people just call me Chris. But I guess that works too."

"You are going to get C-RUSHED here, you big dumbie. She's gonna steam roll all over your nuts and leave your dick in the dirt."

Chris laughed, he couldn't help it. His Claire, always so dramatic. And kinda gross.

"Is this happening before or after dinner? I'm hoping for a funnel cake for desert."

"Stop joking, dumbie. What are you doing?"

"Currently? I'm eating nachos. Which, is possibly a bad idea, given that we're about to go on a ride where you will LIKELY be behind me. But that could be a bonus too."

Claire slapped the nacho out of his hand. It hit the ground and he looked at it forlornly.

"That was just mean, Claire."

"Break up with her."

"She's not my girlfriend…exactly. So I can't. But why would I? I LIKE her. She makes me laugh. She's a little crazy, a lot of fun, and fucking dynamic in bed. Why in the holy hell would I stop seeing her?"

"She doesn't love you."

He stopped and looked at her. And now he tilted his head. "Did I say I was in love with her?"

"You are. Idiot. I can see it all over you. She can see it too. I bet your BOSS saw it on the VIDEO of you BONING her on his desk. Remember that? My sweet brother. My STUPID brother. I like Jill. She's a cool chic. She's also a bitch."

"Ease back, Claire," And he sounded good natured, yes, but he was firm now. The joking was gone from his voice, "Ease back. I understand your concern. But you don't want to start firing off insults at her."

Claire held his eyes. "You defending her?"

"Yeah. I am. She's a good person. Big heart. You don't really know her. So don't even pretend to get it. She's not playing me. She's had some shit go wrong in her life and she's trying to find her place in the world. I'm not looking to tie her down or hurt her. And I'm not looking for a mom to tell me how to deal with her. So you need to chill out, back off, and just enjoy the day."

They looked at each other for a long moment. Finally, Claire relented. Her brother, she thought a little, a big squish with balls of steel. He'd stand in front of you while bullets tore him to pieces if he loved you. He was protecting Jill Valentine from her. He was done. He was finished.

Fuck.

"You big softie. I'm going to be there when she breaks you."

"I'm tougher than I look, Claire. Don't worry."

Jill came running from the games section. She was holding the coveted giant banana. She held it up. "Guess WHO just KILLED it at the shooting gallery?! THIS GUY!" And she pointed to herself.

She did a little dance and pretended to hump the banana.

Shit. Well, Claire was right. He was in love with her. Big time. How could you NOT love a woman who was pretending to deep dick a stuffed fruit?

Claire was laughing. She dropped her corn dog in the trash. "That's it. I need a banana now."

Chris smiled at her and grabbed her hand. "Thank you."

"Prove me wrong, Christina. Prove me wrong." She ran toward the booths with the games to win a banana. There was no way in the world she was letting Jill Valentine beat her.


	12. Better Off Friends

**The Devil's Bargain**

* * *

 **Twelve:**

 **Better off Friends**

* * *

 **Raccoon City, 1997**

Jill tossed him the giant banana and straddled the bench across from him. She put her hands on his legs above his knees and rubbed. "Thanks for today. I can't remember having more fun."

"You bet."

"You mad that I won the banana?"

"I feel vaguely emasculated, yes. But I'll check to see if my ego can survive it."

Jill laughed and slapped his legs as she rose. She started by him and stopped. And then she dropped her hand, took his chin and turned his face up to her. She kissed him, eyes open.

Surely she was aware anyone they knew could be around them. She was aware. She just wasn't sure she cared like she should.

She said, quietly, "You had cheese on your mouth."

"Hmm. You get it?"

"Maybe. Maybe I missed it."

"Maybe you should try again."

"Probably not a bad idea." She skimmed her thumb over his mouth. He felt the thump of his heart in his chest. Damnit. "I'm thinking it's ferris wheel time."

"That ride is UBER boring. Why would we ride it?"

"Oh. Because I know how to make it fun."

She leaned down to whisper in his ear. And it was so utterly and completely dirty that he was hard before she even finished speaking. She rose, smiled, and headed toward the ferris wheel.

He waved to Claire and pointed. She was deep in conversation with some skinny guy with a big nose. She waved and gave him the thumbs up.

He didn't even finish his nachos as he raced after Jill. She was laughing as she ran away from him. She ducked into the funhouse and he jumped in after her.

He watched her laugh and run but it was a huge hall of mirrors so he wasn't entirely surely she was anywhere close to where he thought she was. He moved and shifted, turning in the semi darkness. She laughed again and poked out from between two mirrors.

"BOO!"

He backed her into the mirror and kissed her.

Her tummy fell out of her butt. She lifted her hands to cup his face. It didn't stay sweet. It never did with them. Chris was like standing too close to a burning building for her. She had to see how close she could get to the fire without going up in smoke.

He was sex and skin and encompassing greed. Jesus, she thought, as he stole her gasp into his mouth and speared his tongue into her mouth. Jesus.

Voices emerged into their little bubble. It sounded like Claire and possibly…Barry? Jill gasped and pulled back. He had one hand in her pants and was stroking her. She shivered and grabbed his wrist.

"Hey! Flag on the play there, Red. We are no longer ALONE in the funhouse."

He heard the voices too. And he thrust his middle finger into her anyway. She gasped and humped against him. Christ. He wondered if he'd ever get enough of her.

With a regret, he pulled his hands off her. She shivered and fixed her clothes. And along came Barry Burton and his two daughters. Not a moment too soon. Thank god. Or they'd have gotten an education in how babies were made.

They spent the whole day at the fair. They partnered with Barry and his family for awhile. Lost Claire to a handsome guy for a few hours. And tried to figure out how many ways they could get away with groping each other.

It was…was it a date?

It felt like a date. The date part scared her. This was the thing with him: freight train. Even here, even this...he was full steam ahead. She was going to end up in love with him if they didn't just apply some brakes here.

She was panicking a little bit because loving him meant losing him if something went wrong. She wasn't sure she'd survive that.

But it didn't stop her from climbing onto his lap on the ferris wheel. Fate or fortunate luck had the ride halting at the apex of the turn. She slid her panties to the side and tugged him out of his pants to mount him.

They covered each other's mouths to fuck like bunnies with her on top before the ride rolled forward again. His hands slid up her thighs and rolled her hips to help her take him. She could see all of Raccoon City out the side of the gondola, high above the city while she rode his body. They could have glanced at the incredible view, but they were too busy watching each other from inches away.

It was a good day. A great day. She was afraid what it meant if people found out they were together. Would it hurt his career? She was done hurting his career.

Claire had made a remark as Chris was getting hotdogs that lingered in Jill's brain. She'd said, off handedly, "Chris is an idiot sometimes about what's best for him. He has pretty shitty radar for making sound decisions."

Jill had looked over at her and the two had held eyes. There was something vaguely warning in the redhead's tone. Jill had simply nodded, getting the point.

Claire wanted her out of the picture. Could she blame her? Jill wasn't exactly girlfriend material.

When they rolled up to the house, Jill shifted in her seat a little. The rain had driven them away from the parade and the fair. It was steadily pouring again.

She stared out the windshield. And finally, she said, "Are we…dating?"

"Do you feel like we're dating?"

"This is gonna sound stupid but I don't think we should date."

He rolled in the seat to look at her. "Ok. Why?"

"Honestly? We just got REAMED at work for it. We keep up on doing this kind of thing and we're gonna get separated. I do NOT want to end up on Bravo."

"Me either."

"I would die if I got you fired for fucking me, Chris. I would never forgive myself."

"Jill...I can take care of myself. But I don't want you to feel like this is a risk. So if you want to take it easy, we can do that."

She shifted, shrugging once, "I don't want you to end up a joke like me...so maybe we cool it for awhile."

He lifted his brow at her. "Who said you were a joke? And are you breaking up with me?"

"No one. Not exactly...that would mean we were together to start with. Are we? Shit I'm so confused."

"Breathe, Jill. What are you saying here?"

"I would die if I lost you. I would die if this cost you your career...I don't know what to do here. But maybe…we just…"

I would die if I lost you, she said. What was she saying? In what way? He was a simple guy. Was she putting him back in the friendzone? He considered her face. And then he laughed. "You want to be secret sex buddies."

"…ok. Maybe. A little. I don't think we should go flaunting our shit around work anymore. I want you to do well at work, Chris. You deserve it."

"And what about you?"

"I'll never get promoted. We both know that." She started to open the car door and he stopped her.

"Hold on." He ran around in the rain and opened her door. And then he tucked her under his jacket to protect her from the pouring water and ran with her toward the house.

Gentleman.

On the porch, he shook off the water and wiped her face free of it. She grabbed his wrists and looked into his face. "You ok with that?"

"I meant it when I said whatever you want, Jill. Seriously. You need space, I'll give you that. I dig you. I'm not trying to choke you. And you not getting promoted? That's just a cop out because you're too afraid to try. Don't. Go for it. You are better than you give yourself credit for. Play the game, just a little, and you'll have Wesker and the rest of them? Eating out of your hand."

He opened the door and waited for her to pass by him into the house.

"Explain." She instructed as he hung up his wet jacket and moved into the kitchen to get a beer.

"It's diplomacy, darlin. And knowing how to play people. You got me to fuck you on that desk."

"That was just a beret and tits, Red. Not rocket science."

"Some. Yeah." He pictured the beret and the tits and was instantly ready to drill her on the desk again. He laughed a little at himself, "Some of it was just an innate ability to read people. You KNEW you could get me to do it. You have good instincts, Jill. Just use them. And you'll be on your way."

"…thank you."

He shrugged and popped the top on the beer. He offered it to her. She took it and he grabbed another one. He wasn't trying to do anything but speak to the truth to her. His no bullshit? It was perfect. He didn't waste energy flirting or making her feel like the prettiest girl in the room.

That was the trick with Chris. You just KNEW you were the prettiest girl in the room. He told you, straight up, that you were. He didn't have to do anything but just be himself. And that was more than enough to be everything.

Her brain said: You're in love with him.

She studied him as he ate a pickle standing there at the counter looking through the paper. Ok. So she kinda was. She kinda really was. And that was bad. She'd been afraid that would happen.

And he was right. They both wanted Wesker to respect them. They both wanted to do well at this job. It wouldn't work. It wouldn't happen if they kept falling in love with each other.

Claire wanted her out of the picture anyway. And Claire was his world. She couldn't stand there between them like that. She got it, she really did, Claire was just trying to protect her favorite guy in the world.

Could she blame her?

Maybe it was time to throttle it back a little.

"So maybe…maybe we just ease off the gas."

He lifted his eyes to her face. "Define "ease off"."

"I'm kinda afraid of where we're going here."

He tilted his head at her, "Meaning?"

"Like maybe we're getting exclusive? I get...I get the feeling you think I'm your girlfriend."

She was so afraid. He could almost smell it on her. Of what? Being loved. Being wanted. She came from ugly messy roots. He knew that. He knew she was afraid of commitment.

But he'd kinda thought she'd grow to love him anyway.

So he asked, "You want to take a break from this?"

She worried her lip, looking nervous. "Maybe? I don't want to hurt you. I think I might do that if we keep going down this road together."

Oh. He kept his face blank. But there was that drop kick in the heart Claire had mentioned. There it was. Open up chest; kick boot in fucking heart. Boom. Yep. It sucked.

"Ah."

"Don't do that." She lifted her hands a little. "I don't…want to get you in trouble anymore. Ya know?"

"Jill, I'm a big boy. I can decide what's good for me and what isn't."

"I know that. I do. But I couldn't stand it if they put you on Bravo and tanked your career. I want to be…friends ya know? Can we keep doing this and being friends?"

He hated that he kinda agreed with her on that.

"I think so. But if you don't, that's cool. I meant that too, Jill. This? Just you and me here. Doesn't have to be hard or weird. We'll lay off the gas here. And take it easy for awhile."

"Yeah?"

"Sure. No problem."

"Ok…cool. Thanks again for today. I'm gonna hit the sack."

"Awesome. Night."

"Night."

She went into her room and quietly closed the door. He rolled his tongue around his teeth and popped his neck. And then he went out into the garage to beat the shit out of the heavy bag. Someone had put a bug in her ear about him. Who?

Well the answer was easy there, definitely, and the culprit had his eyes.

C-Bear sticking her button nose in where it didn't belong. But that was ok. He could play in the friend zone while Jill bucked up the courage to be his girl. He was a patient guy.

He whoopied Jill at work Monday morning. In hindsight, she should have seen it coming. They were back to being buddies.

She should have been prepared.

It was Monday morning whoopie time. She went to inspect the board. She came back…whoopied. The flatulent fart filled the office and had Joseph laughing.

Brad giggled. Joseph shook his head. Barry said, "Why does that never get old?"

Jill pursed her lips. Chris shrugged.

Had she thought all the sweet lovemaking would soften him?

His eyes sparkled at her. Did she really want it to? No. They weren't together. They were…just pals. Or something.

Just two dudes hanging out. One of them just happened to be a girl.

So when he started to fall asleep reading reports, she kicked his chair. And down he went. He pinwheeled his arms and went over onto his back.

Yep. Just buddies.

At noon, she went to the mat. Chris came with her. She said, "I want you to really try to hit me. I keep losing to Wesker. I need to stop losing."

"I'm the wrong guy to help you. I can't even hit him. Why would I be able to help you do it?"

"You think there's anyone in the world good enough to fight him? No. But you're the best I've got. Until I find somebody better, you'll do. So, let's go."

"What a rousing endorsement, Valentine. Cheese and rice. Fine."

They sparred. He was faster than she'd given him credit for at first. He was good at knowing where she'd be. He caught her and threw her. She tucked back and rolled with it. She moved in a flurry of attacks. He blocked, reversed, ducked and didn't let her hit him.

Good, her mind said, GOOD.

At 2 p.m., Wesker came down to face her. Chris moved to the side and sat to watch. Great, Jill mused, now she had an audience.

Wesker rolled his arms. She rolled hers.

He moved. She moved. She spun low, he threw a kick over her head. She came up under his leg, drove a punch toward his groin and he hooked that leg around her head and threw her to the floor. She rolled through it, spun her body like a top, and took his other leg out from under him.

He went down, she rolled over the top of him and pinned him to the mat.

Impressed, he eyed her from the floor. "What do you fight for?"

She answered, quietly, "Me."

It was a good answer.

Wesker rolled up, grabbed her shirt, put a boot in her belly and kicked her out. She tucked into a front hand spring and rolled back to face him. He considered and cocked his head.

"Chris?"

"Sir?"

"I'd like you to come against Jill as well. Let's see how she does with two opponents."

Jill lifted a brow. Chris shrugged and flanked her.

"Now…" Wesker circled her. "What do you do when two opponents are against you? When one both are bigger and stronger. You are the weak link here. What do you do?"

Jill considered the situation. And she moved.

Later, Chris thought, he'd understand the drive behind her. She chose him first, which meant Wesker was the greater threat. She took out the underling first. He swung at her and she feinted left, deflected his arm, and drove a punch at his solar plexus. He blocked and she dropped down, put one ten foot leg straight into the air and kicked him clean in the face with the back of her heel. She spun back and took his legs, grabbed his arm and rolled him to his face on the mat.

Wesker grabbed her around the throat and she rotated, dropped an elbow, and used the heel of her hand toward his nose to drive him back. She elbow dropped onto Chris' back, which hurt like hell and stole his air, and rolled to her feet. She cartwheeled toward Wesker, ducked and rolled as he threw two fast kicks at her head, and she came up. She came up and kick flipped him right in the chest.

Wesker went back, flipped over, and came up nodding.

"Better. Better today. Why?"

But he knew. It was the other man. What else? Which meant she was still fighting for love. And it would only get you so far.

Fair enough, he thought, and turned to Chris. Wesker threw a kick at him. Surprised, Chris blocked it, spun back and hooked an arm around his neck. Had he been a literal opponent, it would have been the start of a reverse neck breaker. Always the brawler, Wesker mused, and drove an elbow into his sternum, drove two punches into his stomach, and hooked an ankle behind his. He dumped him on his face and Jill leapt on him from behind.

Surprised, Wesker went to all fours from the weight of her. She put him in a head lock. On their knees on the mat, Wesker was nodding.

She fought for her, true. But she'd found her strength for Chris Redfield. That was it. That was her trigger. She was loyal.

He tapped the mat.

He tapped the mat and gave up.

Jill rose, feeling the rush and roll of success. Oh god, she thought, had she won? Did that happen? Wesker turned to her.

"You have to remember, as you fight, that fighting for what's right or what is important will only get you so far. The things you face, the foes, won't always have a purpose for that fight. They will want to kill you. They will not stop, they absolutely will NOT stop until you are dead. They won't care about what you fight for. The only thing you can do, ever, is keep on fighting long after that thing is gone."

They watched him and he felt it. He felt their respect now. He felt their interest. They believed him. He inspired them. He considered them, "Your opponent may be stronger, faster, bigger and tougher. It doesn't matter. It won't matter. If you are BETTER. To be better, you have to let go of what you're fighting for. Remember it but don't dwell in it. In this job, you could be dead tomorrow. Will the fight stop because you are dead? No. It goes on. And you will go on. Or you will never win."

He held Jill's gaze now. "Tomorrow I will begin to teach you about movement and restraint. Are you ready to learn?"

"Yes. Yes sir."

"Good. Chris?"

"Sir?"

"I want you to shift your training. You have the strength, work on the speed. There will be times that strength is your weakness. Without a secondary set of skills, your strength will fail you. Learn to move when the time comes and not to dwell on being the strongest dog in the yard."

"Yes sir."

He moved toward the showers. "We have some intel regarding the witch murders to discuss. Meet me back in the bull pen in twenty minutes."

When he was in the showers, Jill turned back to Chris.

"I beat him."

"You kinda did."

"I BEAT him?"

"Seems that way."

She let out a whoop and jumped. He caught her, laughing. She wrapped around his front and kissed him. He put her down.

Remembering she'd been the one to put the brakes on, Jill stepped away coughing. "Sorry."

"No worries. Good work, Jill."

"Hey thanks."

She ran to the showers. He watched her run and chuckled. She showered off and went to grab her towel. It was full of holes.

Blinking, she wrapped it around herself with a snort.

Some of the other female officers were joking and laughing as she came out. One lifted her brows, "Valentine? It may be time for a new towel."

Jill, one breast clearly poking out of the holey towel, shrugged. "It's ventilated."

And they all laughed.

Chris was working on his shift report when Jill came into the bull pen. He grinned at her, she lifted a brow. He went to open his desk drawer. The handle? Well it shocked the shit out of him. He yelped and looked at her face.

She looked back, innocently.

She looked down in her seat for the whoopie cushion. Nothing. She sat down. They faced each other across the desks. She tilted her head, he tilted his head.

"So, it's like that?"

Chris smirked, "Hasn't it always been like that?"

"Game on, you little jerk."

He winked at her.

She felt better than she'd felt in days.

Wesker came into the office and moved to the board.

"There was a murder this morning."

They all turned their eyes to him. "Last night sometime between midnight three a.m., three bodies were found here and here and here." He gestured to the board, to the pattern. Jill glanced at Chris. "We're still trying to discern the nature of what ritual they are attempting to enact."

Jill kicked is chair and gestured with her head.

Chris cleared his throat, "Sir? If you don't mind? I have a theory."

Wesker nodded and stepped away from the board. Chris moved over and took his notes with him. And something happened. Jill watched him and saw something on him. It was…what was it? It was command. Or something.

She saw something flash across him like she could see into the future. He was going to lead men one day. She had no doubt about that. He commanded the room, gesturing, speaking concisely and clearly. He answered questions and engaged his audience.

And he had the answers.

Whatever Wesker threw at him. He HAD the answers.

"If we follow the shift in kills, in targets, we start to see that it's forming a specific pattern right? The pattern? It's the spell. They're doing a spell. Why? I think they're trying to summon a specific demon."

Brad snorted, "That's not even possible. Can they really be a threat if they're trying to do magic? Unless the rest of the Lord of the Rings shows up to help, are fake witches really a threat?"

Everyone looked at him. Jill thought he was must be kidding.

Nope.

He was that fucking stupid.

WHY was he on alpha team?!

Wesker said, quietly, "The spell isn't the threat, Brad. The terrorism BEHIND the spell is the threat. They are building toward a final and very bloody conclusion. We need to the know the WHY to know the way to defeat them."

Sheepish, Brad nodded, "Yes sir. Of course sir."

"I've called in contacts to consult with us on witchcraft and Satanism. They are arriving shortly. Meet in the conference room and bring what you have to contribute. Chris? This is EXCELLENT work. Bring anything you have regarding the demon in question."

"Yes sir. I will."

He moved out of the room and Joseph slapped Chris on the shoulder. "Brown noser! Good work." It was said without any rancor at all.

"Hey thanks."

Jill grinned at him as they moved toward the conference room. "You didn't tell me you had it ALL figured out."

"I may not. We won't know until these experts take a gander at it, I guess."

He was so fucking smart.

Naturally, after all, he was Chris Redfield.


	13. Witches

**The Devil's Bargain**

* * *

 **Thirteen:**

 **Witches**

* * *

They were still smiling about it as they stepped into the conference room. It was wide and long and graced with a huge table currently set up with a slide machine. The person there was already going through slides.

She was beautiful and very tall. At least five foot nine in the heels she wore. She had brutally perfect high cheekbones and wicked dark eyes with long red hair scooped back from an ethereal face. The sides of her hair was faded a little to show the tattoo against the side of her head. It was a wiccan symbol. She was green eyed and had pink stones and moonstones dangling in her ears. She wore a suit in black with a shocking purple camisole beneath it. Her fingers were clinking with big rings as she talked.

The man beside her was older, pushing the back side of fifty and reminded Jill of Spacely Sprocket from the Jetsons. He was mustached and short and kinda chubby. He wore a vest and a pocketwatch.

The beautiful woman stopped talking to smile at them as they came in. "Merry meet," She said cheerily and her voice was smoky and smooth, "I hear you bring good news."

She moved forward and shook hands. Brad stared at her like he'd burn her face into his brain. Barry looked like he could be her brother or her father or something. Joseph tried his best to look flirty and failed. She held Jill's hand in hers for a moment.

She tilted her head. "You are a light, aren't you? Keep it strong when all others fail."

Weirdo.

Jill nodded, smiling. "Sure thing."

Wesker said, "This is Gia Davos. She is the expert we sent for on Wicca. And our other guest is Ron Jarvis. Ron is a professor at Yale here to help us understand the Satanism displayed by the cult we are tracking. If everyone could take their seats, we can get started."

There was no more time to worry about the other things. It was time to do their job.

Gia stopped by Chris and shook his hand, "I hear you bring me something that may have the answers we seek."

He smiled at her, "Possibly. Hopefully."

"Excellent. You have an open mind, it is written all over you. You are?"

"Chris. Chris Redfield."

"Ah. Ahhhh. Your name is rooted in mystic truth. You come from long ties?"

"Seems that way. My Dad's family dates back to before I can even begin to remember."

"Good. A seeker of truth with an edge in the mystic will make this so much easier. Come up front with me, Mr. Redfield. Let me show you what I know."

"Sure."

Jill sat down and ended up next to Brad and Joseph. It…wasn't…ideal. And Chris? Chris ended up standing at the front of the room with the "wiccan expert." He watched her face as she spoke, he listened. They put their heads together over his research and she pointed, nodded, and pointed to something in that huge book in front of her.

Ron Jarvis was giving a lecture on Satanism. Jill tried to pay attention to it and not be jealous of the red haired witch that was currently sniffing around her man.

NO, her brain said, NOT YOURS. You pulled the plug on that. Remember? BFF's. That's it. You did that. That was your choice, kid.

Ron Jarvis was saying, "There are two types of Satanists in the world: the ones who worship and the ones who don't. Satan was invented... uh, discovered... uh, let's start over. People first started talking about Satan around the third century B.C., starting in Jewish scriptures. The concept of Satan caught fire with Christianity." He gestured to the slide show he was starting. It was a goat with horns and the many pointed symbol, "Given human nature, it's a lead pipe cinch that there have been some kind of Satan worshipers throughout most of the history of the concept, but it's difficult to estimate exactly how many, for the same reason it's difficult to estimate how many Communists were working in the State Department in the 1950s. Although there were some, the label "Satanist" became a catchall for any group of people whose beliefs offended the church of Rome."

Gia said something quietly to Chris. He laughed and glanced at her face. Jill watched him, curious. He leaned over, whispered, and the beautiful red head? Well, she touched his arm.

"Gnosticism was the equivalent of Satanism in the eyes of the early church. So was Witchcraft. So too any form of Occultism. Freemasonry is still called Satanic by many Christians. When Christianity moved into a geographical region, it co-opted as much of the native religion as possible. Whatever remained was deemed Satanic. It's also tricky to draw the line between the historical practice of demonology, in which the forces of hell were invoked as servants, and Satanism, which is the worship of Satan," Ron Jarvis was giving them a hell of a lecture. There was a shit ton of interesting stuff to be learned. And she wasn't interested. Not even a little bit.

She was, however, interested in the hand on his arm. And why it felt the need to stay there.

"Satan began to take on the familiar qualities of horns and tail in the Dark Ages, modeled on several predecessor pagan gods such as Pan or the Green Man, fertility-style gods who represented everything the Catholics were out to eradicate, such as sex and generally having a good time." Ron Jarvis gestured to Barry who was raising his hand. "Yes?"

"What about the robes and shit?"

Joseph added, "And the Rosemary's Baby stuff?"

"That was likely engineered by the Catholic Church or some semblance of religious connotation along that line. Most Satanists take offense to the idea of worship in terms of Satan. They present themselves as secular humanists with a sense of humor, who embrace the concept of Satan as a symbol of anti-Christian protest. It's never, entirely, one sided when it comes to fanatics, of course. And zealots on either side could be known to embellish and indulge in various types of horrific activities."

Wesker was studying the slides on the wall as they emerged. Chris rose from his seat and moved to stand beside him. They spoke, quietly, briefly. And Chris gestured to the part of one slide. Animated, he made a symbol on his hand. Wesker nodded and rubbed his chin like he had a beard.

Chris asked, gesturing to the photo of satanic ritual on the board, "At what point to we segue way into cultism as opposed to Satanism?"

"Cultism," Said Jarvis, "Is the idea of extremism or even falsity often led by a charismatic and authoritarian leader. In the case of what you're tracking here? I'd say assuming Satanism may not be what you're looking at. Cult? Yes. It's religious. But what religion?"

Gia rose now and moved to join the other two at the board. "It's Witchcraft, Mr. Redfield."

"Chris."

She flashed that killer smile at him. "Naturally. Chris. It's Witchcraft. It's not Wicca. But it doesn't even pretend to be."

Wesker met her eyes, "Would you mind enlightening us, Ms. Davos?"

"Gia. And of course. Ron? Do you mind?"

"Not at all. I'm very curious, myself." He took a seat.

Chris leaned on the wall, crossing his arms. And Wesker took the seat he'd vacated.

"What is Wicca?" Gia smiled, jingling her rings, "Contrary to what those who choose to persecute or lie about us wish to believe, Wicca is a very peaceful, harmonious and balanced way of life which promotes oneness with the divine and all which exists."

Jill queried, "So nature?"

"Yes," Gia answered, appreciating the question, "An no. Wicca is a deep appreciation and awe in watching the sunrise or sunset, the forest in the light of a glowing moon, a meadow enchanted by the first light of day. It is the morning dew on the petals of a beautiful flower, the gentle caress of a warm summer breeze upon your skin, or the warmth of the summer sun on your face. Wicca is the fall of colorful autumn leaves, and the softness of winter snow. It is light, and shadow and all that lies in between. It is the song of the birds and other creatures of the wild. It is being in the presence of Mother Earths nature and being humbled in reverence. When we are in the temple of the Lord and Lady, we are not prone to the arrogance of human technology as they touch our souls. To be a Witch is to be a healer, a teacher, a seeker, a giver, and a protector of all things. If this path is yours, may you walk it with honor, light and integrity."

Chris nodded a little, "And the difference with what we're seeing here?"

"Although what you're seeing is Witchcraft. It isn't Satanism. One has nothing to do with the other. They share a similar set of symbols, perverted and destroyed by Satanists. Witchcraft is stones and herbs and energies and natural objects. It draws from light or dark, yes. It's more neutral than anything predefined as white or black magic. It is both. Because nature is both loving and cruel. You will hear people confuse witchcraft, Satanism and paganism. Wiccans are often pagans. This is true. Satanism is not paganism. Pagans follow earth magics. It's a spiritual belief system with no ties to Christianity whatsoever."

Chris moved to the book on the table. "I got that part. So what about this? This is the Book of Shadows. What does that mean? In terms of what they're doing here."

"Let me say that there is no ONE Book of Shadows. Ever. The book of shadows has often been used as a plot device for those looking to invent a story. It has merit. Yes, it does. Because a book of shadows? It is a collection of YOUR spells, potions, records and references. It's individual. It's personal. It's not all encompassing, Chris. It's years and years of love and devotion to your craft."

She stepped up beside him and look at the symbol he was gesturing to. "So this…Asmodeus? The Destroyer? Is this something personal?"

"The Destroyer is not personal, no. Not exactly. The demon is well known. The desire to raise him is personal. And the destruction intended when he rises. Discover the why? It might help you find the whom."

"Can you help me decipher this book?"

She met his eyes. Jill licked her teeth. She wasn't impressed, at all, with her jealousy. She didn't like it. And it wasn't like her.

Gia said, "I can try. I would love to help you."

Wesker nodded. "Good. Excellent. Chris? Stay with Gia and get started on interpreting the book. If we can find the why maybe we can stop the next attacks."

Chris nodded and they sat down together. "Are they trying to raise a demon here, Gia?"

She nodded, slowly, "It's safe to say that is the end game here, yes. But why? There are better demons than Asmodeus. Why him?"

"Maybe you can help me figure that part out."

"I'd love to." And she looked at his mouth.

Jill pursed her lips and rose. "Sir? Do you need us to help?"

Wesker studied her behind those glasses of his. He finally shook his head, "I don't believe so. Why don't you adjourn to the range and work on movement and accuracy for the rest of the afternoon?"

Barry said, "You want me to stay and help here, sir?"

"Sure. Gia? Barry is very good with the cultism portion of things. He might be an asset."

Gia smiled up at him, "Handsome men are always welcome."

Barry grinned like an idiot. Jill rolled her eyes and followed and Joseph and Brad out of the room. They spent the afternoon at the range, blasting the shit out of stuff. They messed around with machine guns and magnums. Jill couldn't get control of the Desert Eagle she kept trying to learn to fire. The kick back was enormous. She didn't know how anyone could use it.

Joseph put a naked girl on one poster and sent it out over the range. Jill shot her right in the vagina.

Brad was snorting so hard he looked sick.

Joseph chuckled, "You just gave that girl her last good fucking, Valentine."

Brad said, "So you think Chris will start tagging that hot witch chic?"

Joseph shrugged and aimed a sniper rifle from the floor. They were outside now at the big range. They were working on distance shots, clearly. Joseph clicked his rifle to adjust for wind resistance. "Hard to say. Red's an odd duck about chics."

Brad nodded a little, "He is. You get the feeling he was tagging just one girl recently?"

Jill said nothing, adjusting the scope on her rifle. Brad fired and missed completely. Joseph drilled his target between the eyes. Jill's shot took out her targets throat.

Damnit.

"Oh yeah. He said some girl he was seeing fucked him up."

And now she listened, closely.

"Oh yeah?" Brad fired again and hit the dirt eighteen inches to the right of the target. WHY was he in Alpha? "I didn't think he was the type to let girls fuck him up."

"Right? He said this girl? She keeps fucking with him. Blows hot, blows cold. Utter fucking nightmare."

Jill gritted her teeth. And drilled her target in the mouth. FUCK. She adjusted again.

"Bitches be trippin man," Brad commented, "Why do you think I stay the fuck away from them?"

Jill snorted out a laugh, "Because you can't even pay a girl to jump on your dick, Brad. Get serious."

Joseph laughed and nodded, "True story, dude."

"Oh yeah? What's your excuse, Valentine? Manny said you were a total ass pain on your date."

"Manny? He's an idiot. He was rude, stupid, and boring. He tried to get a hand job in the car. I gave him a hand job alright. I punched him in the dick when he tried to put his hand up my skirt."

Joseph nodded a little, "You're a good girl, Valentine. Seriously. Don't let dudes grope you. Plenty of nice guys out there want a good girl."

"Thanks, Joe. What a nice thing to say."

"I'm a Don Juan in disguise."

Jill laughed and shot her target in the ear. SHIT. She adjusted again.

"You seein anybody?"

She considered and went with the truth. "Nope."

"You want a fix up? I know a nice guy who's your type at the gym. Long hair? Plays in a band."

"Why does everyone assume that's my type?"

Brad said, "Because that IS your type. Pretty boys."

"Who says so?"

They both said, "Red."

"He's a dumbass too. And wrong. I don't have a type."

Brad said, "I think he's just jealous."

Curious, Jill shot her target again. And hit it clean between the eyes. BOOM! "Why jealous?"

"He WISHES he could get a girl like you. But he's a buttface. So he can't."

He was INDEED a buttface. Jill chuckled and agreed. "Out of curiousity, why not?"

It was Joseph who answered, "Ok. Objectively speaking, Chris is a handsome dude yeah? He's got about as much charm as a wet fart but chics like that sometimes. But you? You're the tits, Valentine. Your body is a fifteen, your face is a twenty, your personality is off the charts. Chris can't score with a chic like you. He knows it. He knows he ain't good enough. You? You need a guy who is as hot as you are. Or you'll never be happy."

Jill wasn't sure if she was flattered or insulted. Did they really think that? That she was too good for the average guy? She thought about that as they packed up for the day and went back to the office.

Did Chris think he wasn't good enough for her?

Really?

Chris was so fucking arrogant, she found it hard to imagine that he thought like that. He's not arrogant, her brain said, confident sure. But he's got the goods to back it up. And he's so fucking laid back he just agreed and stepped aside when you told him to cool things off.

Maybe, her brain said, it's because he's never felt good enough for you. She didn't know what to think about that. The truth was, he was TOO good for her. She'd come to that realization the other day. She was a nobody. Guys didn't marry Jill Valentine. She hadn't ever thought that Chris would end up with her right? Nope. He could do better.

She was a little surprised to find her self esteem that low. She liked herself, most of the time. She had her moments of weakness, sure. But mostly, she was a good person with a lot of potential. But Chris? He saw the good in everyone. He was just that guy. He was handsome and funny and charming and smart. He was the tits. Not her. How could everyone be blind to that?

She waited in the lobby for him until half passed six. He finally came down from the conference room and tossed her the keys to his Bronco. "You ok to get home?"

"Why?"

"I'm gonna keep hanging here I think. We're on a roll up there. I'm gonna go with Gia to get some dinner and we're gonna come back here and keep going at it."

Jill licked her teeth but kept her voice friendly. "Are ya? Are ya gonna "go at it"?"

Oh. This was a nice moment. His face registered surprise. And finally? Amusement.

"She's pretty hot right? I'm thinkin about it. See ya later right? Don't wait up." And he bumped fists with her and went back up the stairs. "Thanks, kid. Be safe out there."

Jill stood there for a long moment. She picked up her bag from the floor and finally went out into the rain. She opened the passenger door to the Bronco and climbed in to slide to the driver's seat. She cranked the crappy old engine over and pulled away from the curb.

She drove home in silence. And she sat there in front of the house while the Bronco idled in the street. She wanted him to be happy. She did. She was afraid he'd never be happy with her.

She didn't want their careers over with because they were so busy fucking each other. Taking a break from this was good. It was good. It was the right thing.

She stared at her face in the old mirror on the visor and hated doing the right thing.

Objectively, her mind said, he's not yours. You never said he was. You laid down the rules. You made him your fuck buddy and closed the door on romance. You acted like a big baby and caused a fight. He's probably THRILLED to be rid of you. Leave him alone to get his freak on with the witch chic and shut up about it.

Taking her own advice, she went into the house and started cooking some dinner. The rain continued, causing flooding down off Flynt River Bridge. Wesker put out a call for sandbaggers and she went down to help.

She got home about midnight. He wasn't there.

He didn't come home all night.

At about three a.m. she figured that was it. That was what happened right? Close the door and leave it closed.

Jill wasn't even angry. It was the right thing. He was moving on with his life. It was good for them both. But she rolled over to hug her pillow and miss him anyway.

She drove the Bronco to work in the morning and went up to her desk. She hadn't worn the beret today. She'd curled her hair and fixed it. She threw on makeup. If she was going back on the market, she was going back guns blazing.

She sat down, turned on her computer, and rolled her head. "Hey Joe!"

"Sup?"

"Give the guy at the gym my number."

"Good call, Valentine. Get back out there. Rock on."

Across from her, Chris was shaking his head. She lifted her brows at him, "Long night?"

"Seems that way."

"Hmm." She tossed him his keys. He caught them, watching her face.

"Keep 'em. You can't ride your bike in this rain."

"I'm gonna get my own car today. I think. So thanks but I'm good."

Chris shrugged and pocketed his keys.

The awkwardness filled the air around them. She hated this. She needed to do something to break the cycle here and let them get some distance.

Jill filled out reports and finally stood up. She went to Wesker's office and knocked.

When he called for her to come in, she went in, closed the door, and sat down across from him.

"Sir? I'd like permission to consider switching to Bravo team."

Wesker set down his reports. He scanned her face. So that was how the wind blew. Who was the problem here? He studied her face. She waited, patiently. She didn't look upset. But she did look serious.

"Working with Chris is a problem?"

"No. Not at all. Chris is always polite. Always professional. I would like the experience of working with other women. For a little while."

"I see. This is understandable. Bravo is actually going to do a prisoner escort this afternoon. You could accompany Rebecca Chambers. Until we have more information on the movement of the cult or the cannibals, you're limited here anyway. I don't see a problem with assigning you temporarily to Bravo."

"Thank you sir."

"Should the move need to be permanent, let me know soon. I will need to replace you on Alpha team."

"Not necessary sir. Just want to help."

"Understood. I will see you on the mat this afternoon?"

"Yes sir. I wouldn't miss it."

"Good. Dismissed."

Jill nodded and left the office. She closed the door quietly and went to her desk. She gathered up her things, putting them in a little pack from the lockers they had.

Brad said, "What's up, Valentine?"

"I'm being temporarily assigned to Bravo team. So you guys will be without this gorgeous face for awhile."

Barry remarked, "What the hell for?" And he sounded irate.

"They need some help. I'm useless with this witchcraft shit. You guys have an expert consultant attached to help. You don't need me. So I'm out for awhile."

She felt Chris watching her. She kept her eyes on her desk. She didn't have the heart to look at him. Not yet. He'd think she was running. She was, she really was, but not because of the witch...because of the bitch in blue that was having trouble letting go.

Joseph said, "That's bullshit. Bravo is where the babies roll."

"Maybe I can teach them a thing or two. Gonna miss me?"

Joseph snorted, "Yeah I am. Who else has an ass like yours?"

Jill chuckled, "You charmer." She looped her little pack around her shoulders. "I'll be back soon enough guys. See ya."

She holstered her pistol and left the office.

There. Easy enough. It was easy enough to take that break she needed. She got to run around with Bravo for a few days and Chris could chill with his new girlfriend and there wouldn't be any tension.

She went out into the rain, put up her red and white Umbrella with the company logo slapped across it, and hurried into town toward the car lot. First things first, she needed wheels. Enough relying on Chris Redfield to take care of her. Stupid.

Stupid girl.

One day? Her heart said. That's how long it took to move on from her.

Apparently, she was the girl the hero forgot.


	14. Taking Chances

**The Devil's Bargain**

* * *

 **Fourteen:**

 **Taking Chances**

* * *

At his desk, Chris was rolling a quarter in his palm. What shit was this now? What was she playing at here? What had Claire said? Bad news. Was she? Was Jill bad news?

Objectively, she was a mess. She was so scared of committing to anything she, instead, tried to sabotage her own life. He knew she was damaged. He'd learned that in the first ten minutes he'd known her. She was missing some part of her that was trying to be normal. She was kinda dark and twisty. She was no bullshit. So what was this?

Was she avoiding him?

His mind said: you ever think it ain't about you, Redfield? Maybe she legitimately just needs a break. She was RIGHT about taking a step back from each other at work. She was right about it fucking up the dynamic here if you got too deep on it.

So leave it the fuck alone.

He wanted her friendship. He wanted her in his life. He was going to make peace with that being as friends if that's what she wanted. They'd make it work.

Either way? It was out of his hands. So he went back to what he could fix. He went back to doing what he'd come here to do.

He put it away and went back to work.

* * *

Jill purchased a little blue VW bug. It was older and needed some work. But she knew what she was doing there. She felt like a million dollars as she drove it back to the station and parked.

She was on her way back to herself here. She'd kick Wesker's ass on the mat and she'd go back to being BFF's with Chris. She'd fix the sloppy pieces of her life and make it better. She was feeling pretty good about herself.

Before she went down to face Wesker on the mat that day, she even tossed the whoopie cushion into Chris' chair in the office. She was headed downstairs when she heard it go off. And the laughter that followed.

Wesker worked with her on movement. He showed her how to shift, how to lift, how to redirect. He taught her about control. Instead of diving, he taught her to time her roll. She followed him into various strikes and parries.

About twenty minutes into the exercise, she realized she kinda liked him. They weren't going to be friends or anything but he wasn't creepy to her anymore. He was dedicated. And clearly intelligent. She hadn't thought of him as creepy in weeks now. He had a drive that was not only admirable, it was amazing. He was…no bullshit.

And so she had to respect him.

When they finished up, she sipped her water and said, "Sir, I want to personally apologize for my actions in your office with Chris. That was stupid, it was juvenile and it was petty. I haven't done my job, sir, in the weeks since we started working together. I haven't given you the obedience or the loyalty you asked for in that interview. But you have it now, sir. Without question."

Impressed, breathing heavily, Wesker watched her for a moment. And he finally smiled a little. And it wasn't creepy at all. "Thank you. I will see you in the morning."

"Yes sir. I'm off to help with the prisoner escort."

"Good."

"Have a nice night, sir." She picked up her bag and went into the shower. Wesker nodded a little. Perfect. The break with Redfield had turned her focus back to the job and the purpose here. Good, let the end of that fester for awhile.

He needed their unquestioning loyalty. If their relationship was in the way of that, he would need it carefully disassembled and put on hold. It seems they'd done that themselves already.

Good.

Jill came into the house a little after seven from the prisoner transport. Chris was on the couch in his sleeping pants playing the zombie game. She gave him a head nod as she crossed through the living room.

"Sup."

"Sup."

She went into her room and closed the door.

Sighing, he leaned back on the couch and scratched his stomach. He hated this girl shit. Emotional landmines and what not. What did she want here?

She came back out in a little denim skirt, knee high boots, and a purple tube top. He blinked at her.

She said, "Wish me luck. Mama gots herself a hot date."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yup. Met him when I bought my new ride today. He's uber hot. Works at the pub downtown. Total sex on a stick." She put her fist out for him to bump it. "Don't forget to lock up before you rack out ok?"

"Yep. Not comin back tonight huh?"

"That's a negatory. See ya, Red."

"Yep."

He flopped back on the couch and listened to her little car pull away. Shit. So that's how it was. Just like that. In truth, he had this coming. He'd sorta implied he was sleeping with Gia.

He wasn't, but Jill clearly thought he was. So here they were...friends without benefits. A far fall from their beginning.

His fault? A little. Her fault? A little. It took two to fuck up a friendship.

He said, out loud, "Shit."

She not only didn't come back that night. She didn't come back home for three days. She was working with Bravo and he didn't see her. They were never in the house at the same time. He could tell she'd been there of course. She got clothes, she left. She fist bumped him when she found him in passing at the station.

He looked across at her empty desk and missed her. The whoopie cushion appeared in random locations. Which was always funny. He left off a stink bomb in her face through the cracked window of her car one day. She let the air out of his tires.

They continued to tease and prank each other. But where was she?

She just wasn't there. Was he? He kinda felt lost without her

* * *

She was in the lobby one day after work. He knew she was tits deep on working with Wesker. She was always training with him. If you couldn't find her, she was usually on the mat and learning.

But she was in the lobby laughing and wearing some kind of excuse for a dress. Her dark hair was glossy and sleek. The little green tube dress she wore barely covered anything and somehow covered everything.

She saw him coming and waved. "Hey! Hey, Chris this is Derek."

Derek looked like a turd. He was tall and muscular and polite. He shook hands like he was trying to reduce the other man to a puddle of piss on the floor. Chris returned the pressure, waited for the other man to flinch around the eyes with it, and let go of his hand when he did.

"So this is the guy getting all your time these days huh?"

"Yep." Jill grinned, happily, and put her head on Derek's shoulder. "Not exactly my type I know. But what I can say? He's so funny!"

Derek eyed him steadily. Chris lifted a brow. "Awesome. You ever plan on being home? Or you want me to rent your room out to someone else?"

Jill chuckled and shrugged. "I'm there when you aren't. Why? You want me to move out?"

Ok. Yeah. Enough of this shit, Chris thought, whatever game she was playing. He was done playing. If it was just friends again, then so be it. He wasn't chasing her around anymore trying to see her. Stupid girl, his mind admonished, your loss.

"Whatever you want right? See ya."

And he went on out into the rain.

Up until that point, he'd figured maybe she was just taking a breather or something. It was the first real time he'd discovered she was just done with him. Fine. No harm and no foul. He kinda felt stupid hanging around waiting for her. So it was time to just leave it be.

He was angry at her for moving on with her life. Which was stupid. Because she'd told him from the beginning not to get too attached.

It wasn't her fault he was still waiting around like a love sick idiot. She'd never made promises or asked him to do that. And there was no reason to be mad at her about it. Friends, she'd said once, that's all it was.

So that was all it would be. He wasn't the type of guy to hurt her for it or dwell on it. She was clearly done. So he would be too.

Better that way, he mused, everybody goes on with their business. So he'd let her do that and move on. It's just the type of guy he was.

So he wasn't sleeping Gia, but he figured it was time to start.

She came home around midnight and went into the kitchen to get a beer. She was popping the top when she heard him coming down the hallway. She turned and smiled and stopped.

Nope, she thought, not him. Gia the witch was moving toward the fridge. In his shirt. She was in his shirt. His RPD sweatshirt. Right.

Gia said, "Oh Jill! Good to see you. Do you mind?"

Jill shifted and Gia went into the fridge to get a beer. She smiled at her, "You look lovely."

Jill smiled back, "Thanks." And it almost choked her to say it.

"Well…good night."

She went back down the hallway.

Jill stood there with the beer half to her mouth. She blinked. She blinked again. She put the beer down on the counter untouched.

She went out into the garage and wrapped her hands. She set her purse down, rolled her shoulders and went to town on the heavy bag.

* * *

In the bedroom, Gia watched him move. She was feeling things in this house she was clearly on the outside of. She liked Chris, she did. But she didn't want to be his mistake.

She tilted her head at him and mused, "Is Jill your girlfriend?"

He shook his head. He pressed her back against the door and angled his mouth to her, but Gia touched a finger to his lips. "She's hurting. She's out in the garage and hurting. I don't want to be in the middle of your mess, Chris. I'll ask again...is Jill your girlfriend?"

He shook his head again and finally answered, "She's not. Not exactly."

"Ah." Gia patted his arm and pushed him away. "Go fix it. This house is full of negative energy. Until you fix it, I can't stay here."

"...wait. Just...stay here a second ok? I'll handle Jill." He paused at the door and added, "Sorry."

"No reason for that. We're just beginning. You need to end with Jill for that to happen."

Women. Sometimes they were way too perceptive for their own good.

* * *

She heard him come out into the garage. She kept on hitting the bag.

"Hey."

"Hey." She kept on hitting the bag.

"You left your beer."

"Keep it. I don't want it."

Chris leaned on the wall, watching her. "Where's the stupid boyfriend?"

Jill laughed a little, "He's not my boyfriend. And he's at work. He works nights."

"You want to talk about Gia?"

"Nope. Not my fucking business. Not even a little bit."

"Alrighty."

She hit the heavy bag so hard that it made her gasp. It rang down her arm and stole her breath.

"Hey," He said, "Take it easy, kid. You're gonna break your wrist."

Jill laughed, harshly, "Go away, Red. Please. I didn't ask you to come out here and lecture me on how to hit a punching bag. So just go fuck your girlfriend and leave me alone."

She hit the bag again and hurt herself. He saw it happen. She recoiled from it and grabbed the work bench behind her.

"Fucking Christ, Jill. I told you." He tried to take her hand to look at it and she pushed him away.

"Yeah! You told me. Good for you. You told me. Awesome. You're right again. Chris Redfield is always right isn't he? Never wrong."

"I have my moments."

"Go away. You fucking idiot. Just go away."

He watched her and tried to discern her moods. She was a mystery here. She was cool and she wasn't. She was jealous and she wasn't. What did she want here?

"I'm not a mind reader, Jill. Tell me what you want. You blow me off, you bring me back. You blow me off. I don't do games. We said no games remember? I'm holding up my end of the deal. Why aren't you?"

A fair question, Jill admitted, a fair question.

"I'm not playing games. I'm sorry. I'm just…I don't know what happened here." She looked at his face. "What happened here?"

"What do you mean?"

"We're best friends. We're lovers. We're best friends. We're not even friends any more. What happened?"

"I don't know. You've been a little fucking messy for me lately. I don't know what you want here."

"Really? Is it just me?"

And that was a fair question too. So he replied, "I don't know what you want here."

"I'm sorry. Shit." She leapt on the work bench. "Let's try this again. You like Gia huh? She's your type so that makes perfect sense."

"What's my type?"

"You know…leggy and tall. Big boobs. Smart."

He nodded a little. "Yeah. That's my type."

"Yup. I like her. She seems nice. Go back inside to her. I'm sorry for being a rag. I'll be nice about your stupid girlfriend."

He laughed a little. "She's not my girlfriend."

"Just taking a ride on the freight train huh?"

"It would seem that way. Tell me we're ok here, Jill. I don't want you to move out and I don't this weird here with us."

"We're good. Go nail the witch. I'm gonna take a walk and try to figure out what's swirling around in my head. I didn't want to get to this place with us. I should have stayed off you in that fucking Bronco that first time. I knew it would land me here."

"Where is here?"

"Lost. Trying to figure out how to be your friend and work with you and not get attached."

He studied her face. "Gimme a minute to get rid of the witch."

"No. No. Seriously don't do that. It's not her fault. Or yours. Go back inside and give her a free ride on the train. I'll be fine."

"Shut up, you idiot woman. Gimme a minute."

True to form, he came back after a couple minutes. They struck up some smokes and camped on the floor of the garage.

"Start talking, kid."

"You don't find this shit with us confusing?"

Chris took a slow drag on his cigarette. "Let me level with you here. I'm not confused. Not at all. Ok that's not true. Right now I'm fucking confused. You don't know what you want, Jill. Which is fine. Most of us don't. But don't be afraid to fucking talk to me about it. This? You and me? It's the best thing I've got going. Don't punish me for something I don't understand here. TALK to me."

Jill sighed a little and rolled onto her back on the dirty floor. He laid down beside her.

"I want to impress Wesker. Ya know? I want him to respect me. I can't do that if I've got my hands in your pants all the time."

Chris rolled to one arm to watch her and listen.

"So I figure, maybe we just take a break."

"Yeah, I got that part."

"One day?"

"What?"

"You waited ONE DAY to move on."

Oh. He blinked. He blinked again. Was it that simple? Really? "You jealous?"

"Yeah." Jill laughed, "Which sucks for me. I didn't WANT that, you know? I didn't want to think about you like that. So I figured…ok. Just..move on. So I did that. And then I show up here and there she is. And she's…your type. And she's perfect. She is. You deserve that. Guy like you? Who are we kidding here?"

"I don't even know what that means."

"You're a catch, dude. Ya know? You got this humor thing happening and you're a gentleman and you have a big dick. So that's like the trifecta of awesome. And she's smart and she clearly went to a good school and she's got money and she wears fancy expensive clothes. I bet she's kind and generous and loves babies."

Chris laughed a little bit.

"What am I? I'm the thief's daughter. I'm just a girl who lured you onto your boss' desk and nearly got you fired. So who can blame you here?"

"Save the pity party, Valentine. I didn't R.S.V.P. for it. I'm here. You're here. We're just two people in a garage. I'm not any better than you. We both put our pants on one leg at a time and take dumps. We're just people. So cut the shit, Jill. What do you want?"

That no bullshit of his sometimes could startle you. You had to prepare yourself for the lack of flowery speeches.

Jill shook her head and sat up. "Nope. No. What do YOU want? We always talk about me. It's always me calling the shots, laying down the rules, throwing down the sex. You? You show up, fuck me bowlegged and toss a whoopie cushion under my ass. What do you want, Chris? No more games, right? Out with it."

Chris stayed on the floor, looking up the at ceiling. "I want to be your guy."

"You ARE my guy."

"Then I'm happy."

She studied his face. "Idiot."

"…is that a compliment? You should work on your people skills a little."

Jill sighed. "Can you be serious? Ever?"

"Jill, I can be happy with whatever. I'm not that fucking complicated here. I can be your guy or be your friend or be your enemy. Whatever you want. I don't sit around worrying about shit I can't change. I don't chase girls who don't want me to catch them. I don't dwell in things I can't have. You don't want me? That's fine. It is. I'll get over it. And I'll still be your friend. I meant it. You're my best friend. It's that easy or that complicated. Your choice." He rolled to his feet.

She sighed a little again. And rose from the ground. "That's not an answer."

"It is. It's a good answer."

"It's a cop out. And you never once, ever, said what you wanted. You just told me what you thought I wanted to hear. That's not the same thing at all."

She walked into the house.

He paused, considered, and figured out she was fucking right. He'd just told her what she wanted to hear. He'd just spoon fed her the same shit he'd been feeding himself from the moment he met her.

Wow.

He was THAT guy.

He followed her into the house. So then it was time to NOT be that guy. Chris followed her into the bedroom.

She was unzipping her boots. "What?"

"Looks like we're both playing games here. I'm sorry."

Jill blinked. "Yeah?"

"Oh yeah. I wasn't doing it on purpose. Swear to god. But yeah, I've gotten into the habit of just being the guy who is laid back and shrugs. Safer that way? Something. But I just don't dwell on stuff. So I pretend it doesn't hurt. You rolled into bed with me, crying, and we connected. In some kind of serious way. A first for me. I admit it felt really good to have you. So I was cool. I was happy. You backpedaled and kicked me in the fucking heart."

She winced at the imagery of that. "...not on purpose."

He shook his head, "I know that. I do. But I was pissed. But I swallowed that too. I know you're a mess. I know you're twisty. I know you're not like any other woman I've ever met."

She hated hurting him. It nearly killed her. So she murmured, "I'm sorry."

He made a sound of frustration. Because he didn't want her to be ashamed. She hadn't done anything but be Jill. Whatever mess that was? He dug it.

"No. Don't be sorry. No more fucking sorry here, Jill. This is complicated with us. We wanted it easy and it wasn't. Ever." He rolled his neck a little. Throw down or go down, he thought, and threw down. "I'm in love with you."

"Chris…" It was a quiet gasp.

"I am. There. That's what I want. I want to get over those fucking walls you've got built so high around you that I can't even see the real you. I want you to let me in. It's scary. It is. But I absolutely will not fail you, Jill. Let me in. That's what I want."

Jill watched him in the darkness of the room. "What about work?"

"What about it? It doesn't have to have a damn thing to do with work. Letting me in? It comes with nothing but me. That's it. You get me. I'm not some idiot with long hair and a guitar. I'm pretty stupid and often have my foot in my mouth. But you get me. If you can't? I meant the other part too. That's ok. Just say it. And we can go back to being friends. Your choice."

"I told you not to fall in love with me."

"Well I was already in love with you then anyway. So l lied."

And now she laughed. She laughed and moved across the room. She wrapped her arms around his waist. "Idiot."

"I am."

"Fuck. This is what I fucking said would happen. This is all your fault."

"I'm ok with it." He grabbed her face and turned it up to him. "What's your answer?"

"Shit."

"…that's a terrible answer."

Jill laughed and rose on her tip toes. "I'm scared to lose you."

"Only fucking way you ever win is to take the risk of losing everything."

He was pretty wise for a big idiot. A big idiot that was kinda awesome. And kinda everything. "Ok. I love you."

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah. I love you. Scares me stupid."

"Me too. So let's just get naked and I'll put my dick in you and you won't be scared anymore."

And now she was laughing as they leapt up on the bed together. He rolled atop her and scooped her hair from her face. "You wanna be my girl, Jill Valentine?"

"Shit."

"Is that a yes?"

"It's a yes. And a mess. What about the witch?"

"We hadn't got to the freight train yet. I was working on it. But you showed up in the nick of time and saved my dignity from her corruption."

"She was in your shirt."

"Yep. We were naked. We just weren't naked and porking."

"Chris Redfield….you are such a romantic soul."

"It's my curse on the world. What about the stupid boyfriend?"

"He never even got to see me naked."

He kissed her. It was deep, hot, and stole her breath. She gasped, grabbing his face. "I love you."

He kissed her again. She opened her legs and slid them around him. They shared the wet wonder of it for a long moment until they were both breathless.

He said, "Say it again."

"I love you."

He hiked up her dress and made her gasp. She slid her panties to the side and he shoved against her body. It was…it was something. It was something scary and brutal and real. She opened her legs wider and pushed his pants the rest of the way down his legs.

He stretched her with three fingers to get her slick and ready. Her hand moved to the nightstand like she'd get a rubber, but he just pushed her knee back toward her arm instead and fought the tight swell of her body bareback. She grabbed at his shoulders, thrilled and surprised.

When he was buried in her, they both were trembling with it. Of course, she thought, he'd stop looking for a condom. He was her guy. Isn't that what he said? He'd stop wearing one when he was her guy. He didn't even bother to ask her permission, he just laid claim to her.

His face, she thought desperately, his face was crazy for her. It scared her death and she coveted it like a drug. He was going to kill her fast or kill her slow or love her to death. And she wanted to know, for the first time ever, what that was like.

She clutched his ass in her hands, rolling him inside of her. "Good lord...how do you feel bigger without a rubber on?"

He laughed, easing out until she was almost empty of him before sliding back in. It was something, she thought madly, that enormous girth of his stretched you wide every time. She made a desperate little moan and widened her thighs to take more of it.

It was nearly a growl that asked her, "You like it?"

She gripped his ass so hard it made him grunt and thrust against her. Jill cried out, shaking, legs wrapping around his to hold him inside of her. Her body spasmed, sucking his dick like she'd take it with her. They both made small noises of pleasure.

Without the rubber, it felt it incredible. She whispered, breathless, "...I love it."

His voice was low and scratchy when he said, "Yeah. That's what I want. You're my Valentine. One way or another, that's how it is."

"...that was both corny and kinda awesome, Redfield." She pushed on him to roll him to his back and seated herself on him. Sharp, deep, it made her grab his wrists and slap them over his head to hold him down while her body adjusted.

He watched her face and whispered, "I'm yours too, Jill. What do you want?"

Her heart hammered as she confessed, "...everything. I want everything."

And Chris grumbled, "Me too."

Yep. They were in it now. She couldn't see how this ended well for either of them.

But she rolled her hips and started riding, gasping "Jesus. We are so fucking screwed."

And he laughed while they laid in the dark, lost in each other.


	15. Dog

**The Devil's Bargain**

* * *

 **Fifteen:**

 **Dog**

* * *

So, what happened when you were in love with Chris Redfield? Apparently, it meant he cooked you spaghetti and stole your meatballs. Apparently, it meant he kissed your neck while you played video games. Apparently, it meant he mowed the grass shirtless while you drank lemonade and watched raptly…along with the widow across the street that was using her hose to water her plants for entirely too long. But who could blame her? It was a show. Apparently, it meant you sat on his back while he did push ups while you watched Jerry Springer. Apparently, it meant you talked…and talked..and talked about everything. Apparently, it meant you danced in the kitchen for no reason at all. Chris was really kinda awful at dancing. And it was wonderful. He was big on laughter.

BIG on laughter. He was always keeping her laughing. From the foghorn in the morning scaring the piss out of her to the Nerf gun war that ended up catching the stove on fire somehow. To the world's longest game of hide and seek that went well past midnight and the time they bought giant inflatable balls, got inside them, and went racing down the street like bubble people. Chris didn't stop laughing.

She came home one day to find a trampoline out back. And they took turns doing flip kicks. Sometime around midnight, he carried her out to it and loved her on it while the crickets chirped. Gentle was what he was when you weren't looking. And he was always looking into her eyes. Always. A direct man on the best of days, when you loved him? He was always looking at you.

It made you feel like you might know all the secrets to the universe.

He wasn't shy about showing her how he felt. Nope. He did little things to show it. He bought the fruit she liked, he cleaned up after her without a word, he made her bed for her…although she never slept in it anymore really. And he taught her how to tackle, how to take a punch, how to anticipate one. She taught him how to back flip. Sorta. He wasn't great but he was eager. The falling down was comic and endearing. But Chris? He kept getting up. He kept trying again. He never gave up.

The intelligence on his face was breathtaking. He listened when she talked, he paid attention to her words and remembered them. He watched her all the time and made her feel a little giddy with it. She caught him looking one afternoon while she was doing laundry. He was just standing there looking at her.

She said, "What?"

And he answered, "I'm kinda nuts for you, Valentine."

And he was just like that too. No bullshit. You just felt good when you were with him and light. He didn't muddy anything. He didn't fake. He didn't hide. He was just out there, just loving you, just living with you.

He was all kinds of wonderful. He juggled vegetables while he cooked. And he cooked a lot. He said, "My parents wouldn't let you eat if you didn't learn." And he was good at it.

His magic tricks were astounding. He disappeared an entire rubber chicken once. Right in front of her. She found it in her car. How? He'd ALWAYS find her card. His sleight of hand was impossible to catch. He liked his video games and loved for her to sit in front him while he played.

Jill was always finding little stuff left around for her. Her favorite shampoo, her favorite flowers on the table, her favorite author's new book on the night stand. He just got her and didn't expect anything with the gesture of it. Her clothes were always mended without a word. She took care of the cars and the maintenance. She fixed the stuff in the house. She was happy to.

She started making efforts to please him too. She went to the farmer's market and bought all the local produce he liked. She bought him an electric razor because he was always forgetting to change blades on his. She cleaned his guns for him and even modified the magazine on his .45 to hold more rounds. She bought little massage oils to rub him down after he got sore fighting the heavy bag.

One day she got a phone call from Harris County in Pennsylvania; Henri was back in lock up. She hadn't even known he was out to begin with. He was such a terrible father. She'd hid the sadness of it but he could see it. He was good at it.

She came in from the grocery store and dumped her bags on the table. Sitting on the floor was…possibly a dog. Or possibly the ugliest beast ever born. It was hairy, kinda, and had pokey ears and big bat eyes. It was just watching her.

Jill called, "Chris? There's…something out here looking at me."

And Chris came out of the bathroom, shirtless, spotted with shaving cream. "Yeah? Oh…yeah. That's Dog."

Jill looked at his face. "I see that it's a dog."

"Not A dog. Just Dog. That's his name. Dog."

"….you named the dog…Dog?"

"Yup. I found him at the pound today. They were gonna you know…" Chris sliced across his throat with a thumb, "So I figured..what the hell? I'd get you a dog. Save a life, make your woman smile. Twofer."

"….you got me a dog?"

"Yep."

"Do I want a dog?"

"You do. You've been so sad. Dog is fun. He doesn't chew shit. He mostly just lies around and plays frisbee. He likes hugs. He's a good dude."

Jill petted Dog. The ugly mutt grinned foolishly at her. His tongued lolled stupidly. He leapt up and licked her face. Jill stared at him with his paws on her shoulders.

Chris said, "Give him a hug. It's what he wants."

She hugged Dog. Dog got down and padded off to lay down.

"See? He just wants love. He's a big goof."

Jill turned to look at him. Chris grinned at her with shaving cream all over his face. She looked at him objectively. He was bigger than he'd been a month ago. Headed toward those big guns he was trying to get. His boombox was blaring somewhere in the house. His belly was flat and taut and muscled. Gorgeous, she thought, had he always been?

He bought her a fucking mutt to make her smile.

She hooked a hand into his waistband and pulled him to her. He was still grinning when he kissed her, smearing her face with shaving cream. She drew back to see him. "You're a big goof."

Chris laughed, "You like Dog?"

"He's ok. I like you."

"Ditto, kiddo." And he picked her up against his front to kiss her again while her feet dangled.

Dog was awesome. He was friendly and charming and stupid looking. She didn't know what the hell kind of breed he was meant to be. But he liked to watch her play video games and he slept on the floor of the bed. He liked to stare at cats and eat pickles. He was good on a leash. She wondered why someone wouldn't want him.

She said, "Some idiot just got rid of you, dude. Why wouldn't someone love you?"

Chris thought, click. The girl who thought no one loved her and the dog who thought the same. Click click click. They were made for each other.

Dog went on runs with her. They ate hotdogs and watched reruns of the Melrose Place and 90210. Dog wasn't fond of Dylan either. "Right?" Jill said, laughing, "What an asshat."

Dog was her best four legged friend.

Her best two legged one? He was always doing stuff to make her feel special. He bought her a baseball hat with her name inscribed on the side. One day he told her a dirty poem he'd written about her. Not at ALL romantic but it made her laugh and kinda turned her on. He was the dirty Dr. Seuss.

She was a sexual tornado. He couldn't figure out where she'd blow him over twice. He was trying to clean his gun one day and she went under the table, unzipped him, and went to town. He nearly shot her before he could put down the pistol and grab her hair. He couldn't take a shower alone. Ever. Which was awesome. She was always in there like a slippery little sex mermaid.

He was fixing the gutters on the back of the house one day on a god damn ladder and there it was, the unzipping. He had to grab the roof to keep from falling off the ladder and killing himself. Objectively, it would have been a good way to die. She was a goddess at putting her mouth on him. He'd bragged about going down. Nope. It was her. She was all about it.

He was playing the zombie game when she came in from the gym one day. He said, "You want to give it a whirl?" And offered her the controller.

She glanced at him and at Dog snoring in the corner on his bed and said, "Yeah. Alright. I'll play."

She didn't grab the controller. She grabbed his dick. And said, "Keep playing dude. Seriously." As she tried to suck his brains out of his cock. He kept playing. He died, tragically, since he couldn't focus anyway. But it was worth it.

His hands were always on her tits. Always. Pretty much 24/7 when they were home. She stopped wearing bras to take away the barrier. He watched tv playing with her boobs. He read witness reports playing with her boobs. Boobs, all the time. It was his thing.

Happy, Jill thought, they were just…happy. I won't fail you, he said, and he didn't. He just loved her. And she loved him. It was good. It was all good, all the time. They never fought. It was impossible to fight with Chris. He was so god damn good natured that you ended up laughing.

At work, they were friendly and funny and constantly goofing off but not touchy. The jokes were wonderful and stupid and silly. She put a fake turd in his chair during a meeting and made everyone laugh. He put temporary hair color in her beret and she ended up with pink streaks for a week. She fixed his boots so they somehow squeaked or farted every time he took a step. The whoopie cushion was her constant plague. It was in the office, in the conference room, in the gym during simulations. She strung his boxers up on the corkboard at work with a sign the said: Found at The Leather Den. Please see Chris Redfield to claim them. The Leather Den was the known gay S&M bar down the road. He got the woman who did announcements for the station to go over the PA one morning and say, "Jill Valentine, please come to reception. Your shipment of anal suppositories has arrived."

Brad fell over laughing. Barry snorted. Joseph said, "A good cup of coffee and a bran muffin will fix that, Valentine. Just sayin."

Jill glanced at his face, twitching her mouth. Chris shrugged.

He was having lunch with a bunch of guys in the cafeteria. She walked over and dumped mayonnaise all over his nachos. He looked at them forlornly. She laughed and walked off.

He had EVERYONE hitting on her. He had to be paying people to do it. Seriously. Guys were constantly asking her out. She couldn't do anything but laugh.

She put laxative in his coffee one morning. And he spent the rest of the day shitting his guts out. He kept leaping up and running to the bathroom during their meeting with Gia and Wesker. It was the best revenge ever.

Gia was too good natured not to like. She was flirty with Chris but seemed harmless. However he'd blown her off that night hadn't made any waves. She was smart and helpful. Jill felt like they were closing in on the witches every day.

She heard the laughter and looked up. She followed the laughter to the window to look out and down. There were condoms all over her car. Everywhere. Some were blown up and in little balloon animals. Some were in the shape of dicks and flapping in the wind. A wavy tube man was whipping and rolling in the wind to bring attention to it. The car was STUFFED with them as well. It was colorful and creative…damn him.

Chris was writing in his witness reports and very, very bland faced.

Brad was laughing, "Can I borrow some?"

Jill snorted, "Who would you use them with Vickers?"

Joseph hooted out a laugh. "Right? You even HAVE a dick, Brad?"

Barry was chuckling, "Maybe he uses them to protect his tube socks."

Brad was offended. "I get laid dude. ALL THE TIME."

Chris said, "Brad, without trying, name ONE GIRL you've fucked in the last year."

Brad was red faced and mad now. Barry was laughing. Joseph slapped him on the back, good naturedly. "Don't worry, Vickers. There's a girl out there for you."

Brad gave them all the finger.

Amused, Jill walked over and said, "You realize…naturally…that you are going down."

Chris kept his face straight, somehow, and said, "Yeah? I'm good at going down."

Joseph snorted out another laugh. "I actually heard that about you dude."

Damn him. Now she was kinda turned on. She slapped him in the back of the head and had him laughing. Chris winked at her. Jill rolled her eyes.

She sat down at her desk…and got whoopied.

And that was it. The fart filled the office and she just started laughing. She laughed and laughed and laughed. They all did. She realized that she had never been so happy. He made her happy. And she loved him a lot.

Her training with Wesker was coming along as well. He was fucking smarter than anyone she'd ever met. He was all drive and determination. He taught her to shift and roll and drop without losing her focus. When he spoke, she listened. He wasn't in the least creepy to her now. He had more intelligence and skill than she could even begin to understand. He instructed, inspected, assessed and revised when a level of training was too complex or too simple.

He pushed her, paced her, praised her and punished her when necessary. She kept missing the timing on her flip kicks one day. He kicked her over so hard that it scared her and she skidded over the mat, curled around the pain. He pulled her up and shook her. "You're better than this! Commit! Or get the hell off my mat!"

She rolled, dropped her elbow to break his hold, and foot swept him. He went down on his back and she leapt on him, straddling him and pinning his arms down. She yelled back at him, "I'm only as good as my teacher! TEACH ME! And stop fucking around!"

Brave. Possibly stupid but brave. Impressed, he looked up at her. And, again, he had that feeling of wanting to own her. And interesting premise for a man like him. He wanted to own her. Why? The pleasing promise of a puppet? Or was it more primal than that? He watched the heave of her bosom, felt her body on him, but it wasn't that. It could be, with enough interest, he could make it physical. But he wasn't interested in that, not really. He wanted her drive, her passion, her purpose. He wanted to see how far she'd go down the rabbit hole. He craved it. And maybe he saw some of his own darkness on her as well. She was a fascinating creature.

It worked. He stopped fucking around. He pulled out all the stops and he started to really teach her. He started slapping her around without pulling it. He spoke of grit and determination. He taught her to fly -speed and skill and sticking to it when you were down and done. He was determined to break her out of her shell.

Apparently, being Wesker's protégé came with respect from your teammates and your coworkers.

Apparently, loving Chris Redfield came with coming out of the gym to find a cheerleading squad doing their own personal cheer for you. She watched him on the balcony while they started screaming her name and shouting about being aggressive. He chuckled and shrugged.

He wasn't laughing when he came out of the shower in the gym and had no clothes. There was…a tiny towel and a treasure map. He had to go around the station with his little buttcheeks hanging out of that tiny towel while he tried to find his clothes. He got hit on quite a bit by both men and women…and most of the hookers in chairs. Jill had kindly left his underwear hanging from the ceiling fan in chairs. What a pal.

Jill saluted him from the balcony as he crossed the lobby in his boxers and his shoulder holster. Someone hooted and said, "Dance, Redfield!"

Ryman. He was good fun.

So? Chris Redfield danced. Jill threw her hand to her collarbone and laughed. Someone turned on a boombox with an Usher song blaring. And he just…he danced. It was…the best thing she'd seen in days. There was whistling and whooping. It was something to see. His rhythm? Awful. His enthusiasm? Amazeballs.

Gia was whistling and there was too much grinning. Too much grinning. Jill hated the grinning. Amused at herself for the jealousy, she enjoyed the show anyway.

There was a clatter beside her and one of the rookies interviewing for a job had completely knocked over the coffee cart. With sympathy, Jill went to help clean it up.

"Hey thanks."

She glanced up at the face that went with the voice. It was a fucking great face. All kinds of handsome. Lots of super hot hair and big blue eyes. She grinned a little. What was it Chris was saying? Pretty boy. He was pretty.

He was also dressed in Valentino. A dove gray suit with a perfectly knotted and expensive blue silk tie. He knew what he was wearing, clearly. That suit cost more than a rookie made in a month.

She said, "No problem. Nervous?"

"God yes."

"Don't be. You'll be fine." She studied him and blinked. She'd seen him before now that she thought about it. He'd been the kid on the range that drilled the target three times in a row in the same hole. And she added, "I've seen you shoot. You're fucking aces, kid. This your second interview?"

"Yeah? Yeah, it is."

"You're gold, dude. Seriously. I've never seen anyone shoot like that. You going out for S.T.A.R.S.?"

He flushed a little, charming the hell out of her. He was a baby. A delicious baby but a baby none the less."God, no. Ha. I'm graduating from the academy in a few months. Just looking for an assignment as far from home as possible."

"I know that story. I'm Jill." They rose and shook hands. Good grip and he didn't try to impress her with this strength. He smiled and it was sex on a stick yummy.

"I'm Leon. Leon Kennedy. Thanks for helping."

"You bet, Leon Kennedy. Listen, if you interview with Irons and Wesker, just keep things focused on your skills. Don't worry about any of that shit they tell you in business class. It doesn't matter here. You have an eagle eye which means you're halfway there. Grace under pressure? That's the ticket."

He grinned at her again, "Thanks. I will." He gestured to the coffee cart, "Interested in piss poor coffee, Jill?"

And now she laughed a little. "I am. Thanks."

He poured her a cup of coffee. Adorable little thing that he was. She thought he was about the cutest thing she'd ever seen. She liked the face. It was gold. The reddish blonde hair was cut and styled pretty fucking awesome. It wasn't a face you forgot.

The laughter from the lobby drew their attention.

Leon said, "Poor dude."

"Don't you feel sorry for him, rookie. He's just fine. He likes the attention."

He also did NOT like her talking to handsome, young, and friendly rookies. His face was not thrilled. Touched by the jealousy, Jill leaned a little closer to the kid just to fuck with him.

He said something funny and Chris watched her touch his arm. Nope. That was it.

Jill saw him coming and loved it. LOVED it. Jealous. Boom.

She said, "Good luck in there, Leon Kennedy. I should run along now before I get you punched in the face."

"…by whom?" Leon queried.

"Whom eh? I love it. Probably the guy in the underwear coming this way."

"He doesn't look too tough. I think I'll risk it. You should stay, enjoy more coffee, and let me buy you dinner after my interview."

Oh. Jill grinned at him. Cocky little guy. She liked him. She said, "Can't do it." And there was Chris coming their way. "Better go. Good luck, rookie. You'll do great. Working here is the tits. But just don't be late, ever. People HATE when you're late."

"Don't worry. I'm never late. You should come back here and have that coffee."

"You adorable little thing. Can't do it. And I'm ALWAYS late. My cross to bear. See you around, Leon Kennedy." Jill ran away now, laughing. She watched Chris shoulder bump the rookie as he went by.

Loving it, she ran off laughing before the revenge could find her.

At her desk later, she felt him watching her. She lifted innocent eyes to his face. "What?"

"Who was the turd?"

"Hmm? Whom?"

"You know who, Valentine. **_Whom_ **was the fetus you were flirting with out there?"

"That's...awful grammar, Red, and not at _all_ the correct use of the world whom. But what fetus? You mean that delicious little guy in the suit and tie?"

"….I mean the missing member of Douchey McBoy Band you were slobbering all over."

Barry snorted. Brad said, "Oh that guy? I saw that too. He was hitting on you good, Valentine."

Joseph chuckled, "He's TOTALLY her type."

Barry added, "Oh yeah. That kid? Had Valentine's name all over him."

Tongue in cheek, Jill said, "Oh he tried. He asked me out. Nice kid. Kennedy was his name? I've seen him shoot."

Joseph snapped his fingers, "OH YEAH. I saw him on the range one day. That kid is a fucking natural. Best god damn shot I've ever seen. EVER. Including Wesker. He did the course in like fifteen minutes. It was insane."

Barry was nodding, "Oh yeah. He's from some fancy academy in D.C. He's supposed to be a genius too, I hear."

"Like Chambers?" Brad queried.

"Oh exactly." Barry was typing on his computer now, "He's your type, Jill. You should go for it."

Jill was watching Chris and the humor on her face was bursting. She said, "Maybe I will."

Chris shook his head, snorting. And Brad said, "I heard he beat your score on the course, Red. That sucks for you huh?"

Chris rolled his tongue over his teeth. Jill pursed her lips, biting her lip to stop the grin.

"Yeah? Who cares. Stupid rookies. They came and go."

Jill rose, coughing a little. She said, "I…am going to go see if he's still out there. And find out if he'd like a partner on the range today."

Joseph said, "Rock on, Valentine. Get some."

Brad said, "Hubba Hubba."

She was halfway to the balcony and knew he was back there, following her. She couldn't stop it. She had to start laughing. She ducked into the supply room. A few minutes later, he did too.

She was laughing as he grabbed her to shove her against the wall. Chris was laughing too. "You trying to make me jealous, Valentine?"

"Maybe? Is it working?"

"It might be working." He watched her face. She held his, grinning at him. He kept looking at her mouth. She licked her lips.

"Did you like how it felt? I can keep doing it."

He looked at her mouth again and she shivered with excitement. She liked him jealous. It looked good on him.

But he didn't kiss her. He thrust his hand into her pants and put his fingers in her. She was NOT laughing now. She gasped as he fingered her, fast, faster, and put his other hand over her mouth. He said, softly against her ear, "I don't like being jealous."

His fingers were merciless. She was gasping, gasping and dying. He hissed, softly, "Shh. They'll hear you out there. You want to come?"

Holy god. He was so fucking dirty. She nodded, humping into his hand. He slid his thumb against the apex of her body and stroked her. He pushed her up, threw her into the fire, and watched her come, bucking against his thrusting fingers. His hand slid away to take her moan into his mouth and fill it with his tongue while she shuddered, orgasming into his hand, hot and sticky.

He slid his hand out of her pants and popped their mouths apart. She held on for a moment, shuddering. "Cheese and rice, Red. I'll make you jealous every fucking day from now on."

And he laughed, hugging her.

That was the thing with him. Laughter. It was their bread and butter. It was their cake and cookies. It was their thing. Jill, Chris, and Dog: the three amigos. They went camping and Dog ate all their food while they were hunting up wood for a fire. They played freeze tag and Chris fell asleep waiting for her to tag him. The world's longest on going game of hackey sack lasted six hours and finished when the mailman knocked on the door and Chris dropped the hackey sack.

Jill ran outside whooping and cheering. She made twin pistols with her hands and fired them at him. She did a little jig and stole his fucking heart. Dog watched her from the door, glanced up at Chris, and Chris said, "You want to keep her?"

Dog woofed a little.

"Yeah, me too dude. Seriously."

Jill did a cartwheel and fell. He laughed and whistled.

Apparently, loving Chris Redfield came with laughter.


	16. Surrender

_**Author's Note:** Let me clarify why things are the way they are in this story: they're young. They're in love. They're pre-outbreak and just living their lives. Those lives are each other in that way that our first real love affair is. It's all tactile sensation and sweaty confusion. So the early years are how they find their way through the emotions to become a mirror of each other. That means back and forth, humor, hurt, friendship and sex. If you've felt like that for someone, you can relate. If you haven't, it's not all joy - it hurts in good and bad ways - like love should. And it doesn't always end happy ever after._

 _This chapter is as smutty as I get. It's all smut from one side to the other. You have been warned._

 _Thank you, as always, for reading._

* * *

 **The Devil's Bargain**

* * *

 **Sixteen:**

 ** _Surrender_**

* * *

Apparently, loving Chris Redfield came with perks.

It also came with surprise. It meant he found you to love you when you were playing video games. Merciless, he ruled your body with those skillful hands while you tried to stay alive. It meant your character died eaten by zombies while you came clutching at his face. It meant he always had his mouth on you when you were alone. It meant he held your hand when you went on walks.

It meant he was always leaving fresh flowers on the table for you and calling you to see if you needed anything from the store. It meant he cooked for you and cleaned up after you and took baths with you to rub your feet.

It meant he was yours, so you got to touch him any time you wanted. Jill was always on him. He couldn't sit still without her in his lap. She had her hands in his pants and on his dick like some kind of nympho. When they were bored, they played flashlight tag in the dark and fucked on the trampoline. Young; the need for each other was almost painful sometimes, and filled by a constant desire to touch.

Jill was always buying him silly things to add to his collection of magic tricks: a box of disappearing cards, a rubber chicken, a "cat" in a hat that poofed with smoke and was gone, a silly box she'd lie in and let him "cut her apart". She wore a silver bikini and pretended to be his assistant one afternoon. He split her in half in the box and then split her in half with his dick on the kitchen table.

When she let you in, you went all in..and out...and in again. He couldn't keep his hands off her or his dick out of her. He was crazy for her.

They were young. They were in love. They were happy. It meant all they needed was each other.

It meant the world made sense. It meant the world was all them and Dog.

Loving Chris Redfield meant you felt like you mattered.

It meant you woke up to find him inside of you at 3 a.m. Jill came awake on fire for it. She had been dreaming about killer tomatoes or something. She realized she was wet and desperate around him. He was all tongue and teeth and thrust of it. I'm good at going down, he said, and he certainly was. He had one hand splayed on her belly and hips while he licked and savored her. Her thighs were over his shoulders as those hands shifted and palmed her breasts.

She came, wetly, gasping from it around the torture of his mouth on her. He licked her clean like she might be the tastiest thing he ever had in his mouth. Like a leviathan, he rose above her and she shivered, swollen and hot and ready for him. He didn't wait, didn't even pause, just took her. Hilt deep in a single thrust, he buried himself inside of her and she wasn't even done coming down from the previous orgasm.

Her eyes flew wide open. He had one of her legs curled over his arm, the other held her down at her collarbone and he was so deeply inside of her she was, reasonably, sure he was thrusting into her chest. Possibly. At the very least? He was thrusting into her heart.

Her hands came up to grab his face. She gasped, "Holy hell."

And he laughed, dark and dirty. He put his face against her neck and kept on going. Her free leg looped around his hip as she moved against him. She was making some kind of sound that might have been a keen. He dropped his hand from her collarbone, flicked lazily over her aching clit, and she was too raw and still reeling from before, it brought her to climax hard and wetly around him.

"Yeah," He whispered quietly against her ear, "Like that?"

Yeah she did. She clearly did. She might have gasped out, "Oh my god." And he had him laughing again.

She came apart around him, rolling through the wet release. Their hands came up and caught above her head now and her legs splayed wide and planted as he rode into her. Someone was making a sound that sounded like unh unh unh over and over. It was her, naturally. And he kept right on laughing breathily while she did it. She didn't care. Not even a little bit. He was gentle and deep and blowing her fucking mind with it. She watched the copper of him in the moonlight between the paleness of her legs in the mirror. It was outstanding, it was ungodly, it was unbelievable.

Jill cried out, finally finished with his smooth, slow, infuriating rhythm. His laughter, breathy and punctuated with that heavy panting of his was driving her insane. It was time to push this race into high gear. She gasped, "Think that's funny huh?" She jerked her hands free and raked them, almost too hard, down his back. There was no laughter now.

Oh no. Chris grunted, hissed and shoved into her once, so hard, it rattled her teeth. She screamed with it. It hurt. Oh yeah, it hurt. She was wet and ready but he was still huge. It fucking hurt.

The pain and pleasure of it warred and raped a gasping moan from her. She humped against his invading cock and excited herself. He rode out and shoved back into her, hard, hard, hard. She screamed again and actually slapped him. She slapped him and pushed on him. She hadn't meant to. Her body was sucking him in even as her mind said: WHOA. That is way too deep. She told her mind to go fuck itself and felt the first raw edge of an awesome orgasm looming. Pain and pleasure, the ultimate pairing. They blended together and made fucking magic…sorta like she and Chris did.

So, she gasped, "Again. Again."

He caught her face in his hand and jerked her up to his mouth to kiss her. Rough and sucking, he filled her mouth with his tongue and made her jerk on him for more.

He pinned her collarbone to the bed and pulled out to the tip, watching her face. She gasped, shaking like a junkie in need of a fix, "Yeah. Now."

"Now?" His voice was so low it was gravel and growl. He swirled the head of his cock against the sucking sides of her throbbing cunt and nearly killed her.

She grunted like a pig and commanded, "Yes. Now."

He held her by the throat and watched her face and shoved back into her body even as it resisted the invasion. Her body tried to stop him and he just kept going. Her face, it made his breath catch, because it was part tortured need and part ripping want. He'd NEVER seen a woman look at him like that. She screamed like someone was stabbing her, because he was, and the fire spilled from cunt to clavicle as she took him and made a small sob.

She slapped him again. Her hands were literally trying to push him off even as she yelled, "Yeah. Again!"

It was the hottest fucking thing that had ever happened to him. She was begging even as she was crying and coming and grabbing and fighting. It was like a whirlwind of right and wrong and more. He was _crazy_ for her.

He didn't want to hurt her, but she wanted him to. She wanted him to fuck her and rip her open. And he wanted to please her.

Hell, he was a liar. A huge one. He wanted to rip her open too and brand her like an animal.

So he jerked her leg around his hip and went in and out, twice in row, making her squeal. She grabbed at him, moaning, "Harder. Harder. Ok? Harder."

Jesus.

He shifted her hips beneath him, angled her, and shoved into her so deep and fast that she thought he might have killed her. There was, literally, nowhere else for him to go. He was all in, buried, and she screamed again and slapped him. She slapped his face. She hadn't meant to at all.

Her body was THROBBING. She was kinda sobbing a little. It was swirling in his guts like whiskey and want. He was already a little drunk, but he was lost in her face.

She grabbed his ears and dragged him down to kiss him, hiccuping a little sob and rolling her hips at the same time.

And he went still. "Sorry. Shit. Are you alright?" He leaned up to look into her face.

His hair was sweaty in one eye, he looked kinda feral in the low light, but his face wasn't possessive. It was all concern. And now Jill laughed, gasping with it. "Shut up. And do it."

"Cheese and rice, are you sure? You keep slapping the fuck out of me."

"Hurting you, am I? Can't take it?"

Oh she liked that, she thought wildly, his eyes flared with it. He liked it. Yeah he did. He liked the rough stuff. She'd known that the second he'd spanked her that first time. He liked it rough, did the guy with the enormous dick. Scary. And heady. And awesome for her.

She figured there probably wasn't a lot of girls that could take it rough from a guy this size. She wasn't entirely sure that she could either. But she sure as hell wanted to try.

Jill said, softly, "Think you can break me, big guy? Bet you can't."

He laughed now, breathily and kissed her. She moaned and speared her tongue into his mouth. No wilting kiss, it exploded with teeth and greed. He rolled his body out and thrust into her again, all the way, stealing her breath in a scream that his mouth absorbed. He did it three times in a row, fast and hard, and killed her. She jerked her nails down his back and felt the sticky touch of blood.

Shit.

He scented his own blood like an animal and it drove him wild or something. He went in for the kill. He shoved her knees back and wide and plowed her.

She hadn't actually meant to hurt him that way. But his face said he didn't give a fuck. He hammered into her twice more and she rose to meet it, impaling herself on him and hurting herself with it. It was so good. So bad. And so painfully pleasurable. It hurt, it throbbed, it felt like fire and fuck and want inside her bones.

She shouted, "Again!" And he shoved her hands over her head, rolled to his knees, and literally, literally, tried to split her in half. He did one good, one deep, one impossibly hard thrust into her body and it was too much and not enough and awful and wonderful and raw. Jill shouted, shoving at him to stop, but she yelled, "God! Do it!"

He didn't want to hurt her. He didn't. But her face…HER FACE…it was all kinds of fucking pleasure and need. He wanted to please her. He wanted to please them both. He wanted to fuck her raw. He was so scared to hurt her. It was messy inside of him. But she jerked her hands free and ran them down his back and she'd bled him. She'd literally drew blood. She wanted it. And he wanted her like some kind of fucking drug in his soul.

She said, "Freight train, god damn you. DO IT!"

He curled his hand around her throat, squeezing enough to bring her gasping and excited to his mouth. He fucked her mouth with his tongue and said, "Say please."

"Please. Hurry!"

Chris dropped and gave her his weight. She wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders and held on. And he did it. He drilled her body so hard it hit the center of too much and too full and too far and burst her into a thousand pieces.

The pain and the pleasure hit in the center of her body and split apart her skin in a bloody mess. She was screaming, oh yeah she was. Jill wrapped her legs around him and his hands shifted, bracketed her hips, adjusted her up to an angle that was nearly excruciating, and he split her open with each lunge into her. She went half off the bed with it, grabbing the wall and the nightstand to keep from falling. He grabbed her shoulder and one hip and just kept on going.

Freight train, she thought madly, yep. All the way.

He shifted to his knees and pinned her there where she was trapped. Her feet planted on the bed to try to anchor and he shoved a pillow under her ass to tilt her pelvis. Why?

She found out why. It put him at her cervix like a gateway to heaven...or hell. She almost gasped out, "Don't." But she wanted it. She wanted to know what it felt like to be destroyed by a freight train.

He grabbed her hands and tucked them around her knees, using her to hold her body open for him like some kind of offering on an altar of fornication.

His hand settled around her neck and shouder, his other anchored at her hip - and he simply jerked her down on him like she was a fuck toy. She'd begged for it. She'd asked. It was the first time he ever used her without some level of sensitivity to his size. She was obsessed with watching the pleasure of it all over him.

He palmed a breast, pulled her up to kiss her. He moaned like nothing she'd ever heard out of him. Her body was his wonderland, it was that simple, he couldn't stop falling into her. She'd never had a man make sounds like that. Like she was the best thing he'd ever been inside. Like the universe was found between her thighs. Like the world ended at her womb.

It hurt so good that she felt like she was probably going to die this way,

He shifted her again, when her body felt like one big throb of pain and pleasure, and jerked her up around his lap. She spilled around him like a rag doll. They were both soaked in sweat. He gripped her hips to lift and slam her down on his invading cock and she screamed, she just screamed, grabbing handfuls of his back to hold on.

Her thighs raised and lowered her on their own, impaling her on his dick like she'd die fucking him.

They spilled back to the bed in a grunting heap and he shoved her legs up to her shoulders. Her hands grabbed behind her thighs like he'd asked. His latched on her hips. She watched it, the moment she knew he was going to hurt her. She watched it and almost said stop. Almost.

But he looked at her like she was a siren and her song would lead him to die in her, and she screamed, "More! Hurry!"

He jerked her hips to make her take him, all of him, each time he went in. It was so hard. It stretched and hurt her. It made her squeal and cry. She begged for more, and slapped his face.

The crying should have deterred him, but it felt like winning. It was the kind of crying that said she wanted him...no... _needed_ him. He liked the slapping. The slapping was her submitting to him or something. It was incredible.

Her body was making wet sucking noises as it swallowed him down like a mouth. He stroked her clit at the apex of her body as he went all in and sent her careening into an orgasm. She bucked and jerked as if she were being electrocuted. She cursed and wept, shaking her head and trying to get away even as she got closer.

It was insanity. He could have stopped as she the tender walls of her body seized so tightly around his invading dick that it stole his breath.

But he didn't stop. She used her battle cry to spur him on, "HARDER!"

He rolled her half to her side and tucked her leg up to her chest, straddling the other. Her body nearly split at the angle, tightening around his cock the second it took over. It felt like he was hammering her into her throat this way. She grappled at his hip like she'd stop him.

She gasped, voice breaking, "Oh, don't!"

His hand fisted in her hair to draw her neck back as he kissed her, grunting. "Don't what?"

She whined, the bed soaked beneath her bucking body, "Don't stop? Ok. Don't stop."

He shoved her leg higher against her chest and jerked on her hair to hold her for the assault of him. All in, each thrust, his balls slapped her body obscenely. It was so raw, terribly raw, like she was. Too raw. She keened and shoved a hand on his hip like she'd stop him.

And it was too much, too deep, too hard…she almost yelled out stop and she came. She was there. She came screaming around him while he fucked her so hard her teeth kept snapping together with each thrust. She came so hard it hurt and felt amazing. Her flopping legs were like dead appendages around them. He spit his hair out of his face to see her.

He started to pull out to come on her body and she grabbed him, bucking and gasping, she cried, "Boyscout! Give it to me!"

Holy hell she was the hottest woman he'd ever met. He was OBSESSED with her. He held her down with a hand around her throat and rode into her so deep and hard he knew, knew, knew it was going to hurt her for days. The place where his dick met her cervix felt spongy somehow, absorbent, like it was made to swallow his release. His mind said: you are not seriously going to keep coming in this girl right? Good guys don't come in girls.

But good guys didn't fuck them bare back either. He was past the point of caring. He wanted to blow his load up in her and die there. He said, hoarsely, "You want me to come in you?"

"Oh god, yes! NOW!"

Christ.

He rolled her to her back and her legs looped over his. He grabbed her throat to kiss her.

And he did it. He grunted and dumped wet and hot at the end of her body and ground there inside of her.

She was so used, so hyper sensitive, that she burned when he spurt through her. She burned with each pulse of his dick releasing.

She curled around him, shaking and bucking, sweaty and hot. He buried his face against her breasts and pumped through his release. It was…sticky. It was raw. And about two seconds after it ended, it was utterly painful. She felt the ache in her body that told she'd be sorry soon enough.

And she loved it.

He rolled her back on the bed with him and she shuddered, pulsing painfully around where he was buried so far in her. Someone kept whispering, "Oh my god."

Of course, it was her. He stayed leveraged above her for a moment just looking at the place where their bodies merged. He was all in her. ALL IN. He'd never gone all in a girl before. It was intoxicating to see it.

She studied his face in the dark. He was looking at her like she was some kind of drug. It was the best she'd ever felt in her whole life.

She whispered, "How do I feel now?"

He lifted his gaze to her face and rolled his hips. She gasped, her body spasming around him. The hooded look on his face made her yearn for him somehow. He whispered back, "...I can feel your cervix."

It should have made them both hot to hear that out loud. But it made her tremble, "Yeah? Is it soft?"

He grunted, dropping his mouth to kiss her, "It's wet and spongy. Like it's made to absorb me."

Jesus. She gripped his ass, licking her dry lips. "Fuck...that's hot, huh? Your filthy mouth."

He laughed, kissing her, "...I'm so fucking in love with you, Jill. Cheese and rice."

They kissed for a handful of moments before he leaned back. She let him go, shaking on the bed beneath him.

He slid out of her now and she made a little mewl of pain.

He rose, eyeing her in the darkness. "Shit. Shit. I'm sorry. Are you ok?"

Jill held his gaze for a long moment…and started laughing. She laughed until she was breathless. He grinned and put his ear on her chest. She wrapped her arms and legs around him. "I'm just fine. I think..I may be dead."

"Sorry. I woke up to take a piss. Came back and you were just…you were beautiful. So I thought…she's mine now. I get to fuck her anytime I want. So I did."

Jill thought: Chris Redfield ladies and gentleman, a god in bed…and terrible at romantic speeches. Jill laughed again and held on. "You'd be right. But I don't know how I'm going to walk at work in a few hours."

"He's got you with Bravo still today right? Doing more prison detail? So, you won't be doing shit but lying around all day or sitting in the cruiser with Chambers."

"I don't know about that." She shifted and winced. "Well…that just hurts."

"I broke you."

"Seems that way."

He lifted and looked into her face. She held his look, drolly. And he lifted up, slowly, and high fived himself over her.

Jill stuck her tongue in her cheek. "Did you just congratulate yourself because you broke me?"

"…no?"

"You are a piece of work, Red. Clearly."

He laughed and rolled off her. She flipped on the little light beside the bed. It was bad. His back? It was bad. She winced.

He glanced at it in the mirror. "Well shit. This will get me all KINDS of high fives at work when I'm done doing PT with the guys. I will be, officially, a legend."

"How does that go down with your enormous dick by the way? Are they jealous?"

"Oh yeah. Penis envy is real, dollface. No lie."

"I fucked you up." Jill said laughing.

"Seems that way."

She lifted her hands and high fived herself. He laughed and loved her. He just loved her.

He caught her gaze in the mirror. She kept shifting and wincing. He felt bad about that. He did. But she'd…begged. And he couldn't even begin to describe her face and what it had done to him. But he was a gentleman…sorta. So he was going to help her out.

He disappeared from the room and she put her hand down to touch herself between the legs. Sticky, clearly, from his ejaculate and? She lifted hand. A little blood.

She said, "Damnit."

Because it just plain hurt now. She was sore.

He came back in the bedroom, naked and fucking awesome with it. He picked her up in his arms, said nothing, and took her into the bathroom where he proceeded to set her, gingerly, in a mound of bubbles and hot water. It felt, amazing.

He knelt, skimming her hair back with his hand. He said, "Better?"

And that. THAT. That was why she loved him. He was all proud that he'd fucked her so hard he'd left her broken…kinda. And he was taking care of her now. What a squish.

"Better." Jill affirmed and he dropped his mouth to kiss her.

He said, "I'm gonna get you some water. Just chill out there and soak."

"Thank you. I think I will."

"Awesome. I love you, Jill." And he went to get the water.

Just easy. Just simple. I love you, Jill. Like it was nothing. And it was everything.

He brought the water back and she sat up to sip some. He shifted her and slipped into the water behind her. She leaned back against him and he rubbed her shoulders. He kissed her neck.

Jill sighed with contentment. He slipped a hand down in the water to gently rub at her tender body. She winced but opened her legs to let him massage her. It was very sweet actually considering most men would have just nutted up in her and gone to bed.

He said, "Helping any? Or making it worse?"

Jill smiled and leaned in the circle of his arms. She closed her eyes, smiling. "Not worse. Better. I love you, Chris."

He wondered, honestly, if he'd ever get tired of hearing it. He turned her face and kissed her, smooth and soft. She made a little sound and turned into him. The feisty little thing that she was, swollen, sore, and surely aching and she was still sucking his mouth like she was trying to get him all fired up again.

Laughing, breathless, he turned her back around in the water, "No way, Valentine, you horny thing. You'll hurt yourself worse if you even try."

"I don't care." She rolled over and straddled him. Her mouth was amorous and wet and hungry when she kissed him again. He made some sound and gave in. He kissed her like he'd eat her. She shifted, rubbing over his junk in the water.

His hands came up to play with her tits. He sat up in the water, putting his mouth all over them. She cupped his head and gasped, watching his teeth and tongue devour her. Oh my god, she thought, this is what it looked like to love him.

She tried to grab his dick and stuff it up in her. He shook his head and set her away from him in the water. She made a frustrated sound.

Chris said, "Jilly Bean, if I fuck you again, you really won't be able to walk for a week. Keep it in your pants and be a good girl."

Jill made a little sound and shifted in the water. She eyed him a little. "I bet I could get you to give it me."

"Most likely. I encourage you not to try. I'll hurt you."

"You liked that part."

Hmm. This was a delicate conversation. So he'd have to be careful here. But he wanted to get a point across. Subtlety wasn't his strong suit. "Ok. I enjoy a good rough fucking with a girl, no lie. And I don't get it very often because a lot of girls just…can't. But I do NOT like hurting you. Not like that. I'm actually feeling like a fucking asshole right now because you're so hurt by it. At the time? Kosher. You were screaming and I kept throwing it down to you. That's good sex. After? I felt like a douche."

Jill watched him in the water now, curious. Oh. She studied his face. He did. He really did feel bad about it. Jill tilted her head, watching his face. "You fucking softie. You mean it."

"Oh yeah. Jill, I haven't pounded into a girl in…ever. EVER. Like that. That you took it and kept screaming for more? Hottest god damn thing that's ever went down in my bedroom. No lie. But I don't like seeing you sitting there in the water bleeding afterward. I'm not a fucking monster."

Jill slid through the water and put her arms around him. He held her, stroking her hair. "I know that. I know you don't. I'm sorry it sounded like I did. I like it rough, Chris. And I like it gentle. I just…I like it with you. That's all I got."

Chris rubbed her little butt, holding her. "Same, kid. Clearly. But I'm not going to be freight training on you for a while. Maybe we try the soft stuff and see how it goes."

Jill smiled, loving him. "Maybe we do. You softie."

"Don't tell anyone. Or they'll laugh at me."

She put her arms around him and sighed with joy.

Yeah, Jill thought, that's what loving him was like. Loving Chris Redfield? It felt a little like dying from joy.


	17. What it Takes To Break a Hero

**The Devil's Bargain**

* * *

 **Seventeen:**

 **What It Takes to Break a Hero**

* * *

He whoopied her at work. Why not? He did it. She was barely in the office for more than twenty minutes and he whoopied her.

She sat on the whoopie cushion and it farted. Brad laughed. Barry chuckled. Joseph said, "Every time. Gold."

Wesker opened his office door. He looked serious. He said, "Chris? Could I see you for a moment?"

Chris made a scared face where Wesker couldn't see him and went in the office. The door was closed. Joseph signaled being lynched. Barry pointed a finger gun to his head and pulled the trigger. Brad looked like he might piss his pants.

Jill shifted in her seat; sore. She was straight up sore. Damn him and his enormous cock, she thought reflectively, but she'd been the one to tell him to fuck her like that. And he'd been so very gentle since then. He'd carried her to her little car and poked her inside it.

They didn't ride together to work. It was better that way to keep attention off them. But he'd kissed her, long and slow, before he'd gone to get in his Bronco. It was interesting to love him. He wasn't, objectively, her type at all. This was true. He wasn't pretty, which usually was her thing, and he wasn't rocking piercings or playing in a band. But he was no bullshit. Always. And she loved that about him.

She was working through another round of he said, she said backlog when the office door opened. Chris moved, swift and without stopping. He caught her look, shook his head, and left the office. Wesker was right behind him.

Wesker said, "We have some reports coming. The data doesn't sound good. Gear up, get ready. And meet in the lobby in fifteen minutes."

Wesker and Chris both left the office together.

The rest of them moved.

OF COURSE, Jill thought irritably, TODAY was the day they would go and fight bad guys. Today when she was aching and sore and bleeding a little. Today she would go up against the enemy. Naturally. When she was running at a quarter capacity.

Jill grabbed the desk and winced. She was so sore. Damnit. Shit and double shit.

Barry said, "You ok? You look pale."

"Oh yeah. I pulled a groin muscle yesterday kick boxing. It's killing me."

"Bad time to injure yourself."

"Naturally. I thought I'd be doing prison transport. Just my luck."

Apparently, it was time to go out there and kick some ass. Apparently, loving Chris Redfield meant kicking asses with your vagina throbbing. She couldn't help it. She just had to laugh.

The rain was in full-blown storm mode when they landed. Wesker had to shout to be heard over the din of it. "There is likely a ritual in progress. The potential for mass casualty is paramount here! We need to move fast, move precise, and limit the fallout. Remember: attempting to rescue hostages is essential but not at the risk of the mission. Failure to suspend the ritual in progress could result in catastrophic fallout. Be sharp, move in units. NO ONE MOVES OUT ALONE."

Wesker threw open the door of the chopper and they began to leap out into the rain. Jill shifted, making a sound of distress. Her thighs kept spasming. And the soreness in her belly was scary.

Shit.

Double shit.

And it wasn't a spell. It was a curse. And she was so afraid it was going to cost her the respect of her peers if she fell down from rough fucking. **_CHEESE AND FUCKING RICE_**.

He never touched her on missions. Ever. But he touched her now. When she cramped while retrieving her gear, Chris lifted her up by her arm. He didn't look at her face. He didn't draw attention to the fact that he'd helped her. He just did it.

They both knew he did it to spare her pride.

Loving him for it, Jill shifted her hand and grabbed his belt. It was innocuous. It wasn't even visible to the naked eye. But it kept her upright. And his gloved hand stayed on her arm. For a man that never stepped over the line professionally, it was almost like a hug.

Wesker's voice called into the chopper. "There is a ritual occurring! Chris, Barry – I need you to find cover and reduce the threat. Joseph, Jill –with me. Brad – stay here with the chopper and await our return."

Brad the coward always got to stay behind. The little bastard.

Barry leaped off the plane and they were the last two.

Chris turned his mouth to her ear and said, quietly, "Don't be stupid here, Jill. How bad is it?"

She met his eyes and told him the truth. "It's pretty bad."

She saw it. She saw the moment he felt like a fucking bastard for it. And she didn't want that. She didn't. In normal circumstances, that kind of love should have been nothing but awesome. It was. It remained the best sex she'd ever had. But neither of them could have known it would be followed by this.

She hissed, quietly, "I will be ok. I swear to god. Trust me."

He held her gaze and finally nodded. But he didn't like that either. He wanted to protect her. It was written all over his face. He wanted to…what? Tell her to stay behind and wait? Jill felt the shift of anger in her belly at that.

And said, again, harshly. "I am fucking fine, Redfield. Let go of my damn arm."

He did.

But he looked pissed off about it.

Jill moved swiftly and leaped off the chopper. It hurt. She felt the blood between her thighs while she ran. It all hurt. But that was the thing about pain; you could disconnect it and do your god damn job. And that? That was something she'd learned from Chris Redfield.

Joseph and Jill flanked Wesker as she raced along the ground. Barry and Chris were absorbed into the storming darkness to find cover and open fire on the enemy. The ritual was sending smoke and stink up into the pouring sky.

The bonfire was surviving the typhoon around them just fine. It smelled vaguely of herbs and wood smoke. And there was a body comprised of multiple sewn together parts on a table to one side. There was blood and stones and robes and death. Death. Bodies were everywhere; missing pieces and making a horrible tableau of destruction.

Jill whispered, "Soulless bastards." And she stopped, stopped, and aimed down her arm.

The one with the big knife was lifting it high in the sky to deliver the death blow to the person on the ground before him. A girl. A little girl. And she was weeping.

No.

Jill pulled the trigger in the pouring rain.

The bullet hit the man in the back and threw him forward. The girl on the ground rolled away, screaming. Her shot was echoed by three more. Joseph, Wesker and either Chris and Barry wherever they were.

Jill trusted her comrades and raised into the fray. Wesker signaled with his hand and she went left to engage three of them at once. The pain in her body echoed as she flipped into a forward tuck and spun out to sweep two of their legs at once. They tumbled, stumbled, and she went back into a flip kick. There was the crack of teeth and bone. Her knife was in her hand and swiping without a thought from her.

Just habit. Just skill.

She split one open across the belly and turned it to drive it into the face of the one rushing her. Blood burst as she took his eye and put her knife into his brain. He couldn't even scream. But the one that grabbed her from behind? He screamed. Because Wesker shot him in the back for it.

Jill jerked her knife free and put it into his screaming mouth.

As she ripped it free, she turned. And Wesker had shot her assailant, yes he had. But he'd put himself in harm's way to do it. She watched the man he'd been fighting backhand him. It was hard. It knocked him down.

And the big guy brought that knife down on Wesker in a flying arch.

"No!" Jill flipped the knife in her hand and threw it.

It thrummed and struck, hitting the big man in that driving arm. He screamed and Wesker recovered on the ground enough to send a kick clean into his balls. The man staggered and Jill was already running. She leaped on his back, spun out and around, and dropped all her weight. It twisted his neck, snapped it, and forced a loud wet POP of sound into the thundering rain.

As the body fell, Jill put her hand down to help her Captain to his feet. He grabbed her hand and rose, watching her face. She wasn't sure what that was on it. But it wasn't creepy. If he'd been anyone but Wesker, she might have called it interest.

There was no time to consider it.

They put their backs together as two more rushed them from either side. Jill threw her arms back and Wesker locked his with hers. He rolled up and she came across his back in a flipping arch. She kicked the one in front of her and threw him away and rolled across, came down, and kicked the one rushing Wesker in a smooth, flawless, heavily practiced move.

Across the field, Chris watched them move. That's what they'd been doing during training. He wasn't just guiding her; Wesker was molding her. She was his female counterpart. They moved fluidly, skillfully; playing off each other like dancers.

Chris shot two of them while they rushed the pair. The third reached them. Wesker spun a back kick into him, ducked low, and drove his shoulder into that rushing belly. Jill leapfrogged over his shoulders, hooked her thighs around the assailant's face, and threw her body around like a rubber band. She threw him out and snapped his neck in a single move.

There were benefits to being the boss' protégé it seemed.

Jill moved light lightning, despite the ache in her body. It didn't even slow her down.

Until it slowed her down.

She went to spin kick an attacker and her thighs locked up. It stole her breath. It scared her. And down she went into the mud. The attacker punched her clean in the face for it.

Jill went over onto her back. She skidded through the mud and hit a tree. She tried to rise and her belly rejected the move. Her hand pressed against it and she grabbed the tree to pull herself up. The attacker backhanded her before she could do it. She went over, rolling.

The sound of gunfire was everywhere. The fighting was all around her. Jill gasped as the attacker grabbed her throat, lifted her up, and threw her into the tree. Her back hit, her body screamed, and she hit the ground on her face.

Her poor body, already aching, was throbbing now. Jill rolled to avoid the boot that tried to smash her face but it was a pyric victory. That boot landed on her back instead and put her face in the mud. She reared, jerked, shouted and the knife in his hand went straight into her shoulder.

The pain was awful. It was immediate. It was red and wet and bloody. Jill screamed with it even as he jerked that blade out of her, flipped it in his hand, and brought it down to end her life.

The gunshot was so loud and close it scared the shit out of her. It blasted that knife right out of his hand like the fucking Lone Ranger. The man turned, froze, and got a fist in the face for it. Chris didn't just drive the punch; he planted his foot and drilled it into the other man like he'd collapse bone and brain. He probably did.

The other man went down and didn't move.

Jill tried to rise and he dropped to one knee to slap a hand over her bleeding shoulder. She hissed and he rolled her up and into his arms. He rose, carrying her easily.

She hissed, "Put me down, idiot! If they see you saving me like some fucking white knight I will NEVER live this down."

Chris said nothing. Nothing. She could hear his heart pounding in his big chest. She turned her eyes up to him. And he was so mad. So very mad. The rage on him was scary.

Mad at her?

No.

Mad at himself.

She whispered, "Don't." Even as she knew what that face meant. He was going to blame himself. He was going to blame himself for it.

He set her down on her feet and she stumbled so she allowed him to loop her arm over his shoulders instead and help her limp back out of the woods with him. The fight was over. It had been brutal, quick, and won. Bodies were everywhere; prisoners were bound on the ground. Hostages were safe and being freed.

The pouring rain obscured the faces of most of the people around them. Barry hurried toward them.

"Christ! You ok?"

Jill nodded, hissing. "He hit like a fucking bitch."

And now Barry laughed, relieved.

Wesker moved over, watching them. "You're alright, Jill?"

She was bleeding in more than one way. She felt it dribble down the inside of her thighs while he leaned there. And it was hot and wet on her back from her shoulder.

"I could probably use some medical attention, sir."

Wesker nodded and gestured with his head. "Chris, get her to the chopper. Have Brad evac you to safety. The RPD is enroute. We'll stay here and secure the area until they arrive."

Chris nodded, still silent.

Wesker said, "Jill? That was what we've been working on before. Do you see, finally, what I've been trying to teach you?"

Jill held that pointed pale gaze. "Yes, sir. Remove the emotion and the fight becomes your own purpose."

"Exactly. Good work out there."

"Thank you, sir."

Chris helped her limp toward the chopper. When she was in and settled, he took the seat across from her. Not beside her. No. He sat across from her.

Jill felt the roll of something like panic in her guts.

They kept trying to hurt each other. They kept trying to do this..this thing. They kept trying to work together and love each other and survive it.

But she hadn't survived it. She'd almost DIED from it.

He'd almost gotten her killed.

It terrified him.

Brad said, from the front, "Everything go ok?"

Jill gave him a thumbs up. The chopper lifted and carried them into the rising storm. She waited, watching that face across from her. Chris was bedraggled, soaked, and staring into the darkness. Alarmed, Jill reached over and touched his knee.

He didn't look back at her….but his hand grabbed hers and squeezed.

They didn't speak. Not a word. They didn't speak at all until she was done getting patched up at the aid station at the RPD. He waited outside the room until she emerged.

And then they walked together, silently, into the STARS shower area.

Chris closed the door, locked it, and turned to face her.

"How bad is it?"

Jill shook her head at him and started peeling off her clothes. He saw her hands tremble and cursed. He was rough, almost scary rough, as he jerked her clothes off her. She still said nothing, watching his face with wonder.

And now he picked her up, whether she wanted him to or not, and carried her into the shower. He sat her down and turned on the heated spray. He stood there, fully clothed, while the hot water beat around them.

His eyes moved over her body.

She was bruised on her chest and the side of her face was already coloring like an eggplant from the hit she'd taken. She was scratched and stabbed and sore. And her thighs? They were wet with blood from him.

No bad guy there. Just this guy. Just him. He'd done that.

He shook his head, self-loathing.

Jill grabbed his face, finally, finally and wouldn't let him look away.

"Stop it. STOP. Please. I can see where this is going, Chris. I can SEE you pulling away. Don't. Please."

He shook his head and she scooped the soggy hair out of his face. His whisper was harsh and hurt her to hear it. "Look what I did to you, Jill. I almost got you killed!"

So maybe he shouted that a little. She jumped.

And she shook her head. "Stop it. You didn't! You didn't. It was just bad luck, Chris. It was BAD LUCK. If I was a cashier or something I could have just called in today and been fine. This? This was just bad timing. That's it! That's all!"

The anguish on his face scared her to death. "But we're NOT like that, Jill. This? This is what we do! This is what we're here to do. How can we do this and not have it get us killed?"

"…don't. Chris? Don't do this."

"Jill…" He grabbed her face. "Jill…I can't lose you. I can't. Not like this. This? This wasn't bad luck. It was avoidable. Some things are avoidable. I want to be with you. I do. I love you. But I'm going to get you killed if I don't back off here."

She was shaking her head. "You're overreacting. You're scared and it's making you stupid."

"No. NO. I'm clear-headed in a way I haven't been in months. You said it. You said we couldn't do this and work together. You were right. How in the hell do I survive it if you die, Jill? If I get you killed because I hammered your fucking brains out and hurt you? How the hell do I survive that?" He was so scared. He was so distressed with it. He was going to break her fucking heart to save her life. Big goddamn hero.

Chris Redfield was the guy who walked away to protect you.

DAMN HIM.

"Don't you leave me, Redfield. Don't you fucking dare."

He grabbed her and pulled her into him. She held on, so tight it stole his breath. And he put his face into her neck and breathed. She felt him tremble with it. Don't cry, she thought madly, don't cry. If you cry, I'll die. I'll give you anything you want.

"I'm not leaving you, Jill. This is me loving you. This is how I love you and keep you alive. I don't fucking know any other way to do it." So hoarse. His voice was so hoarse. He loved her so fucking much. He was so scared he was going to love her to death. Couldn't she see that?

He let go of her.

But she didn't. She kept holding on.

His hands came up and grabbed her shoulders…and finally slid into her hair. He turned her face up and his came down. It was a wet kiss. It was a desperate kiss. She tried to cling. She tried to tell him with her body that she loved him. Her hands moved under his clothes; his were on her breasts. Their hearts hammered together with want and fear and need.

He shook his head.

He pulled away from her.

"You're my best friend in the world, Chris. You're my guy. Please. Please don't." She sounded so afraid. He HATED hurting her. But he'd almost gotten her KILLED.

"I'm still your best friend. That won't change. Can't change. I love you, Jill. I love you. And I can't watch you die. I'm so sorry."

He peeled her off him. She tried to hold on. He held her away from him. He looked at her like he wanted to keep holding on. He did. But he couldn't. The big god damn hero.

"Stay with me, Chris. PLEASE. You promised. You swore. You said you'd never fail me. Don't do this."

The guilt stole his breath. He'd said it. He'd promised it. She was right about that. But he couldn't keep her alive by loving her. Walking away? Maybe that's how he kept that promise.

"I want to, Jill. I want to. But I can't."

But the hot wet water was all that remained as he left her standing there….bleeding, bleeding, but you couldn't see it. Not all of it. Not the blood on her thighs, not the blood on her shoulder…but the one in her heart?

That one was going to kill her.


	18. Friends without Benefits

**Eighteen:**

 **Friends without Benefits**

* * *

So, what happened when Chris Redfield broke your heart? Apparently, it meant that you moved back into your own bedroom. Apparently, it meant you mowed the grass alone. Apparently, it meant you took Dog on hikes alone. Apparently, it meant no one stole your meatballs. Apparently, it meant you didn't laugh. You just didn't. Ever.

A man true to his word, Chris didn't stop trying to be her friend. He still joked. He still whoopied her all the time. He still filled her coffee cup with fake spiders to make her scream when she came back from the bathroom to find them floating in her coffee. He still cooked; he still cleaned up after her. He just didn't touch her.

Ever.

Not even a hug.

She did the best she could to return that effort. She understood why he'd done it. She got it. Logically, she got it. But the logic was having trouble in her heart. Her heart said: you know why he did it. You know why. Because you begged him to hurt you, he did, and it nearly got you killed. It wasn't his fault. It was yours. You keep pushing him past his comfort zone. You keep pushing him to do things he wouldn't do for you. You keep testing his limits…and yours. And his limit? His limit is losing you.

He'd rather have you in his life anyway he can get you then be with you. _That's_ how much he loves you. He can't love you and be with you. He can't. Because you keep making it too hard.

It had been hard. Too hard. And it had been AMAZING. The timing had been bad with the witches. It had been really bad. But she hadn't died. She hadn't. She kept hoping he'd see that and come back to her.

But weeks went by and he didn't.

They were still running down pieces of the cult that had been trying to raise the dead in that clearing. They'd gotten a base of the cultists pretty solidly in the ambush. But the leader was eluding them. No one was talking. They were interrogating with little success.

On the mat with Wesker, she was at her best. She was, literally, out performing his best expectations. Without Chris to distract her, she was doing what he'd asked of her: removing the emotion to focus on the purpose.

She was a little alarmed that she hadn't cried, not once, since Chris had left her. It was like she was…what? Numb? Empty? She was something. And that something had Wesker respecting her in ways she'd never felt.

Apparently, getting your heart broken by Chris Redfield meant gaining the respect of your boss.

It was a painful trade.

One afternoon, about three weeks after he'd dumped her in that shower, she was coming off the mat after a sweaty session of training versus some of the guys in Vice and she came upon Kevin Ryman again. He moved over to offer her a bottle of water.

Jill took it, breathing heavy. "Thanks guy."

"Yup." Kevin was so handsome. What had Chris said? Pretty boy. He was. He had all that shaggy hair and big blue eyes. His body was rockin too. Lots of muscle. He kept trying to get into STARS and failing. Lord knew why. But Jill was betting it was the attitude. Kevin wouldn't do well with "absolute obedience".

They'd had a great date actually. Awesome. He was funny and fun and flirty. And she'd shot him down because she wanted to get home to the guy in her house with the soft sweats and nothing underneath.

The guy who'd left her in the shower to protect her.

Big god damn hero…big god damn idiot.

Jill said, "You want to go out again sometime?"

He'd been thinking the same thing. Jill Valentine was probably the coolest chic that had ever been born. She was no bullshit. She was funny and drank beer from a bottle like a dude. And her ass was legendary to those trying to grab it. She hung around with Redfield too much but that seemed platonic enough. And Kevin wasn't a man that worried about romantic complications. He liked a person, he went out with them—end of story.

"Yup."

And Jill laughed now and touched his arm.

It felt really good to laugh.

Back at her desk, she was leafing through victim profiles trying to find a link between the who and the what and the why that Wesker was always shouting about. They were varied and far reaching. The why was clearly trying to raise the dead. But what was the purpose of it? Destruction? To what reason?

Trying to fall into the friendship standard again with him, Jill lifted her head in her little beret and spoke to him, freely, for the first time in weeks. "Have you found a tie between the victims and the cult?"

Chris paused with his coffee halfway to his mouth. It was the first time she'd looked at him without something haunting her eyes. Staying away from her was killing him. He was pretty much dying for her 24/7. But he wouldn't stand there and watch their relationship get her killed, fired, or wounded. Being together had almost done all three.

Maybe she was starting to realize that too.

But he fucking missed her like the other piece of himself.

He rubbed his ear now, considering. "The victims at the last ritual were all minors."

Jill nodded, studying the reports again. "They were. The body they were attempting to resurrect was comprised of adult parts though. So they weren't harvesting pieces from the children. They were just…"

"Using them as hornless goats."

Curious, Jill lifted her brows at him.

Chris sipped his coffee and lifted a finger to give pause to his thought before he pulled one of the books on his desk and gestured. Jill came around the desk and bent down to look at what he was gesturing to in it. "The hornless goat is sometimes what practitioners of dark magic refer to a human sacrifice. Usually, it's found in voodoo to replace the actual animal offering. But I think, in this case, they were trying to offer sacrifice to raise the Destroyer to inhabit the body they'd created. The Destroyer prefers the sacrifice of innocence. What better than children, right?"

He was so fucking smart. She forgot sometimes when he was cracking jokes and being funny. But he just got it. What they were doing here; it just clicked for him. He was following the lines with that brain that was always seeing ten ways the threads could tie together.

She read all about the human sacrifice over his shoulder. He offered her his coffee and she took it without thinking and had a sip. For the first time in weeks, they just talked. They talked about witches and bitches and baby killers. They moved to the corkboard to go over the ties that wound between the members they'd arrested and the victims. They tried to find the link.

They needed to cut off the head of the snake to stop the body. How did they find the head?

Joseph moved over at one point to join the conversation. Barry was close behind. They spitballed. They tossed around ideas.

Joseph offered, "Community leader maybe?"

Barry returned, "Like a church deacon?"

Chris considered that, pacing. "I can see the community leader idea. There's no better way to hide then in the public eye. Think about how easy it is to get away with murder when there's no possible way people would suspect you. Bruce Wayne made the perfect Batman because he was SO visible. Hiding in shadows is for vampires. Killers like this would crave the attention."

Jill studied the faces of the dead on the corkboard. She looked at the locations. She followed, with her finger, the red yarn that made the paths. And then she started to trace the pattern Chris had shown her that night she'd nearly cost them their job. She traced the symbol in the book he'd shown her.

And she said, softly, why the other three continued to suggest potential leaders. "Not a church deacon. A Priest."

There were three heavily attended Catholic churches right in the MIDDLE of the symbol she was tracing with her finger. She turned back to face them; eager with excitement. "A PRIEST, Chris. Look!"

She gestured with her finger. "It moves around these three major hubs of Catholicism. That's the thread. That's the tie. One of these churches has the leader. And he's not a member. He's a leader there. He has to be. He's trying to destroy while he leads the flock into the darkness. I bet all the victims will be members of one of these three churches."

Chris was watching her face while she talked. Don't underestimate yourself, he'd said to her once, he was right. She had the goods. She was just trying too hard to pretend she didn't.

Joseph said, "You think they'll all be members of the same church?"

Jill sighed, considering that, "Maybe? But that might be too obvious. We need to start investigating the congregations though. We should sit in on masses and try to see what lessons the priests are teaching. I think that's where our head of the snake is going to be."

From the doorway, Wesker said, "Brilliant, Jill. And I agree."

They all jumped, startled by his arrival from his office. They'd been so busy brainstorming that they hadn't even known he was there. He moved toward them, smiling. The pale, pale, pale blue of his eyes was always arresting when he didn't wear his glasses.

He stood between Chris and Barry and Jill realized the three of them were exactly the same height. She had to think about that for a minute. Somehow Wesker always seemed so much taller than everyone around them. But they were all…what….six-one? Joseph was the shortest of the group standing there. Well, besides Jill of course.

Wesker was leaner with Barry being the biggest, mass wise, but Chris was the most toned. His arms were flexed without even trying. It was clear he was still lifting, still doing god knew how many push-ups a day, and trying to pack on the muscle he was always chasing.

Wesker studied the board. "I want each of you in civilian clothes to attend Sunday mass at each of these churches. We can't risk going to each service. Brad? You will come with me to this St. Mary's. Barry and Joseph? I want you to attend St. Patrick's. Jill and Chris? Sacred Heart. Let's see if we can discern our enemy by bearding the lion directly in his den."

At the end of the workday, Jill emerged from the STARS showers in jeans and a little blue top that was spaghetti strings and silk. She'd slicked her hair and thrown on enough make to highlight her beautiful face.

Joseph whistled as she grabbed her jacket from her chair. "Date?"

Jill chuckled a little. "That's the rumor. How's Maggie?"

"Great. How soon is too soon to propose?"

Jill studied his guileless face. Joseph was such a gossip. He knew everything. He could tell you everyone's business sometimes before they knew it. Hiding her relationship with Chris from him had been difficult. But he was a good man at the core of it.

"You love her?"

Joseph grinned. "Like it's killing me."

"Then it's never too soon, my friend. The only real failure comes by not giving it your best shot, Joe. Propose. If she's worth it? She won't run." Jill slipped on her jacket.

"And if she says no?"

"Well, then you're better off. Nobody wants to hitch their wagon to someone who runs when things get hard. Right?"

She could FEEL Chris looking at her. She knew it was boggy ground here. But it needed said. He'd spent so long chasing her. He got her. And he ran away. She had a right to be pissed at him. They both knew it.

"True story. That's Valentine. You want to be my best man?"

Jill chuckled and grabbed her keys from her desk. "I'd love to."

"Awesome."

Jill left the office, jingling her keys. Kevin was waiting in the lobby. He had on an old leather bomber jacket in a good cowhide brown. It worked with the white t-shirt and jeans he wore. It worked with the cowboy boots he sported beneath them.

Jill grinned at him. "Dinner?"

"You read my mind."

In the office, Chris rolled his stapler in his hands. Well, it was clear where that arrow had been aimed. In one hand, she was right. He had run. But he had good reason. He did. Right? He had a good reason. They were good friends here. Loving her had nearly killed her.

If that wasn't a good reason...what was?

He grabbed his keys and moved into the lobby. And there she was, leaving with Kevin Ryman.

…shit.

The swell of jealousy pissed him off.

He wasn't a jealous man by nature. And yet he was always chasing her around because of it. It was fucking degrading. He'd pulled the plug on things. It made sense she'd move on.

Why did it hurt so fucking bad?

Chris went home to hang out with Dog.

Dog was watching Will & Grace when he came through the door. Jack and Karen were hee-hawing about some stupid joke. It usually made Chris laugh. Tonight, he bypassed the television and went right out to the heavy bag. Dog followed him into the garage to watch him.

Chris tossed his shirt over his workbench and started taping his hands. "What's the answer here Dog? Seriously?"

Dog chewed his bone, watching him.

"I'm so fucking nuts for her. But that guy? He had her on the ground with a knife in her. A KNIFE. Because her body was all kinds of fucked up from me. I hurt her. I did that. And what? She expects me to just…" Chris hit the bag so hard that his arm went numb to the elbow. Dog kept on watching him, judging. "She just wants me to forget that. Or get over it. How? How do I forget? If I wouldn't have gotten to her, she'd be dead. DEAD, Dog. Do you hear me?"

Dog woofed softly.

"Yeah. You hear me. So why can't SHE hear me?"

On her date, Jill swirled her drink in her hand. Kevin had a perpetual five o'clock shadow. It was part of his charm. It was sexy. He was sexy. He was clearly intelligent and funny and friendly. She should be kinda crushin on him.

But Chris Redfield rolled in her gut like lead.

How did she get him out?

Kevin paid the check. He walked her to her car.

"So, that's how I became Ryman the red faced wienie."

He'd been telling her the story of a childhood prank gone wrong. Jill laughed a little and leaned on her car, watching him. Kevin added, "The chicken in this story was clearly antagonistic. I'm just sayin."

"Clearly."

"Clearly."

"Hey, Ryman?"

"Hmm?"

"You want to kiss me?"

"Yup."

And they both laughed.

Jill grabbed his jacket and pulled him toward her. They kissed; smooth and wet. It was a good kiss. He knew what he was doing. He was good with the pressure and he didn't try to lick her tonsils. All kinds of right tongue and teeth and suck.

She should take him home.

A few months ago, she'd have taken him home and fucked him stupid.

What had changed?

Well, of course, she knew what had changed. She'd taken a ride on a freight train. And now it was all she could get her head to wrap around. They separated from the kiss.

Kevin cupped her face. "You gonna let me see you again, Jill?"

And Jill grinned at him, "Yup."

She rolled in about midnight. She could hear him out in the garage beating up the bag. Dog barked out with him to signal he knew she was home.

Jill grabbed her cigarettes and went out into the garage. She hit the release to raise the door and lit up a smoke. Dog rubbed against her legs for a pet.

"Hey, pal. You been good?"

Dog woofed his answer.

Chris grabbed the bag to halt the swinging. He was all sweaty and yummy. A lock of all that hair of his fell in his eyes. He pushed it out, watching her.

"Good date?"

"Actually yeah." Jill leaped up on the workbench and sat there smoking and petting Dog. "You been out here all night?"

"Off and on, yeah."

"You should find a nice girl and give her a ride on the freight train."

Shit. SHIT. He'd been afraid she was going to say something like that. And he hated that it made him ache to hear it. He studied her face to look for anger. But there was none. She wasn't being catty. She was just being Jill, his buddy. His pal.

His regret.

And Chris Redfield HATED regret.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. It's gotta be better than wasting your Friday night beating up the heavy bag."

"I was hanging with Dog too. So, not wasted."

"True story." Jill petted the mutt and played with his floppy bacon ears. He was her guy. He'd given her a dog to make her smile. He'd punched Greg in the face. He'd backed off to protect her. It was time to let him go back to being her guy and stop trying to make him her man. "Thank you."

Surprised, Chris stopped hitting the bag again. "What?"

"You were right. I hate it like hell. But you were right. We can't keep what we're doing and work together. This is better. So, we move on. And we do it with no hard feelings. We gave it a shot right? We didn't get into STARS to tank our careers and hurt each other. So, let's just hit the rewind here and stop doing that." Jill leaped off the table, stubbing out the smoke. She tossed it into the coffee can beside the garage. "No hard feelings here, Chris. Ok?"

Jesus.

Cheese and rice.

Is this what he wanted?

Maybe. But it felt like a punch in the dick. "…ok."

"I've been saving up some money the last few months. Give me a couple more and I'll get out of your hair here. Thanks for letting me squat though. In hindsight, living together was bound to make a mess right? Kevin was telling me that an apartment in his building should be coming up soon. It's pet friendly. So we can split Dog between us after that." Jill moved toward the house. "Don't hit the bag too hard, big guy. I don't think it can take the full power of the freight train."

She closed the door quietly behind her.

Chris hit the heavy bag with everything he had.

Saturday morning she was gone by the time he dragged his hungover ass out of bed. He'd finished hitting the bag and gone straight for the beer. Dog and Chris had sat outside on the hood of the Bronco. Dog sat on the ground, watching him.

Across the street, the neighbor kids were jumping through the sprinkler.

His mouth felt like sandpaper and cotton. He fucking knew better at his age than to fire back a twelve pack. But he was grieving…or something. Yeah. He was grieving. Because she was ok with it being over.

And he was fucking aching for her.

The motorcycle rolled up the driveway and his baby sister leaped off.

"Heya, butt breath."

"C-Bear."

She was wearing her little motorcycle jacket that he'd given her. She sat her helmet on the tail of the bike. At least she was wearing it today. She'd chopped off a bunch of her long hair. It was just past the shoulders.

"Whoa, kid. Where's the do?"

"Donated. Charity. You know for kids with cancer?"

His C-Bear. She had a heart as big and wide as the ocean. Chris patted the hood and she leaped up to sit by him. She didn't have to ask. She knew. She'd run into Jill in town.

Claire wrapped her hands around his big arm and put her head on his shoulder.

He dropped his cheek to her head.

"You want to talk about it?"

"….nope."

"Mmmk." Claire kept on holding on while the kids across the street laughed and jumped and played. "You want me to kick her ass?"

And now Chris laughed. He laughed. And kissed her forehead. "Nope. Not her fault. This one? All me."

Surprised, Claire glanced up at his face. "What did you do?"

"Let her go. It's the only way I can protect her."

Claire studied his face. He looked so much like their Dad as he got older. It was insane. And wonderful. He acted like him too. All selfless and soft. The big squish.

"You idiot."

Chris blinked at her. "What?"

"Did she ask you to protect her?"

"You don't ask someone to protect you, Claire. You just do it."

"You're a dumb ass, Chris Redfield."

"Dually noted."

Dog woofed on the ground. Claire looked him. She blinked. Dog blinked. She put her hand out and petted him. He put his head on her knee.

"You got a dog."

"I did."

"….you got a dog for Jill Valentine?"

It was stupid how well she knew him. The little snot. He sighed. "I did."

"….I love you, Chris."

And now he laughed. He kissed her forehead again. "Thanks, kid. Ditto."

"You know she's bumming around with that hot cop right?"

"I know that."

"You're ok with it?" She studied his face.

No. No, he was NOT ok with it. At all. Not even a little bit. He was not ok with it at all. What he was, was resolute about it. He looked like shit, felt worse, and made her soften with love for him.

"I bounce, C-Bear. And I will bounce here too. She's not mine. Not anymore. So she gets to do what she wants."

"She gets to do WHO she wants?"

Ouch.

"Yep. That too. Part of the package."

"Chris…apologize and get her back."

"Can't do it. It was the right thing to do, Claire. Sometimes the right thing hurts like a fucking punch in the face."

The big hero. Always screwing himself for the safety of those he cared about. It was admirable. And stupid. He deserved all the love in the world. Why was he running from it?

Claire kissed his mouth, gently. He looped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. And the pounding in his head was his only comfort.

They went to mass on Sunday. The service was interesting. He wasn't Catholic but his mother had been. So he'd been to a few services in his time.

The Priest was engaging. He spoke of hellfire and brimstone. He spoke of redemption. He offered the body and blood of Christ. He offered parishioners the chance to confess their sins and find their absolution. The flock loved him. They yearned for his approval.

Chris studied him, trying to decide if he was their guy.

A younger Priest, he was handsome and guileless. The intensity with which he preached God's message was interesting. He made you want to believe him. He quoted scripture, he referenced Revelations, he mentioned Jesus and his death on the cross. He spoke of the holy trinity.

Chris thought: Are you killing people in your spare time, Father?

The Priest left the dais and the congregation began to break up. Chris rose in his suit and headed toward the doors that led outside. He moved down the stairs to the Bronco and climbed in. Jill climbed in the passenger seat a moment later.

Her Sunday best was pink and virginal. It was unadorned and simple. And it made him hard to look at her in it. Her dark hair was clipped up in a style that looked artless and easy.

They watched the faithful stop and laugh and talk. The priest moved amongst them, shaking hands and laughing. Jill finally spoke into the silence, "What's your gut tell you?"

The Priest stopped and touched the hair on a little girl. She smiled; big blue eyes and happiness. And his hand lingered…just a moment too long.

"My gut says he's the guy."

Jill replied, quietly, "Yeah. That's what mine says too. What now?"

Chris opened his car door and leaped out. Surprised, Jill watched him walk toward the priest. They shook hands. Chris, adorable in his rumpled suit, dwarfed the shorter man in sheer size. But that wasn't it. It was how he engaged him. Chris made the priest laugh. Chris made the priest comfortable. Chris just did that. With everyone. With strangers, with friends, with girls…with terrorists. He just put you at ease.

She fucking missed him.

He came back toward the Bronco shedding his suit jacket. His shirt sleeves were perfectly ironed and crisp white. The collar of the button down was left open. He opened the car door and tossed his jacket in the back seat. He climbed into the front, talking, "Oh yeah he's the guy."

"Yeah? How can you be sure?"

"He preens. Priests do lots of things. They don't preen. He's full of shit and loving it." Chris sat down in the seat.

And the sound of farting filled the interior of the car.

He blinked.

Jill blinked.

She'd whoopied him. She'd put the whoopie under his car seat cover. She'd whoopied him at a church.

Jill watched his face. He watched hers. And she giggled.

His eyebrows went straight up into his hair. "…what was that?"

Jill turned toward her window. She said, "Nothing. I laughed."

"You giggled, Valentine. We both heard it."

"Don't be stupid. Drive the truck."

He cranked the engine and pulled away from the curb. After a long moment, he laughed. And it felt really good to laugh. He'd missed laughing with her. She was his best friend. It was more than missing the taste of her. It was missing her laughter and her humor and her good will. He didn't just love her, he enjoyed her. And it cut both ways.

He just wasn't sure how they set it right.


	19. The Ghosts That Haunt

**Nineteen:**

 **The Ghosts That Haunt**

* * *

How did you fix a hurricane?

She'd wrecked his whole world when she came into his life. She'd blown down his defenses and left him in pieces. The pieces of him were back together but they didn't fit the way they should. Not anymore. She'd cycloned in and brought the rain, the lightning, the thunder. She'd blown him away with her naughty nature and her devilish little mouth. She'd cursed like a sailor and fucked like a porn star and gave shit like a man.

Jill wasn't just the best friend he'd ever had. She was the best person he knew. In the whole fucking world, she was the one who just…got him. Just got him. And he valued that more than anything else in his whole life.

The pieces of him didn't fit without her.

They were mirrors that reflected the truth of each other. They were checks and balances and blood and guts and honesty. They were what kept the other in line. She offered him the chance to explore his dark side and he gave her the steadfast dedication that no one in her life had ever offered. She'd yelled MORE when he'd touched her and he'd thrown her over the desk of their superior and sacrificed his entire career for her.

Whatever else was true, they were in it together.

He rolled up in front of the house and idled there. Jill started to get out and he said, "I don't want you to move out."

She turned back, surprised. "What?"

"I don't want you to move out. You're my best friend, Jill. I want you to stay."

They studied each other in the dreary morning light. The god damn rain never stopped in this stupid town. The spring was turning to summer and still the rain went on. The damn world was wet and green and growing.

Maybe this was how they grew too.

"Can we live together, date other people, and deal with that, Chris? Because that's what happens when we move on but keep living together. We move on."

The rain peppered the windshield. It cocooned around them. He sighed. "I didn't break things off with you to lose you, Jill."

"That's the dumbest thing anyone ever said…ever."

He laughed a little. "Hear me out. I know this won't be easy. At first, it's gonna suck a lot. But ending things, it's how I protect you."

"You're gonna piss me off with that hero shit, Red. Be careful here."

They held eyes.

"Ok. Ok. I hear you. I'm never a fucking misogynist with you, Jill. Ever. But I saw you on the ground with that guy on top of you and I knew it was my fault you were there. I can live with you with another man. I can deal with that. But I can't watch you die. Not because I loved you too much. I'm not fucking strong enough for that shit. Big tough he-man that I am? I can't be the reason you die. I won't survive it."

Jill studied his face. For the guy who lacked words, that was a fucking storybook of them. She wanted to rip open his shirt and lick his chest. She wanted to climb onto his lap and eat him. And because he'd stood there in the rain and nearly lost her, he wanted to run away and try to keep her safe. He was, as she'd always known, too good for her.

So, she did the right thing and let him go.

"So friends then?"

"Yes. Yeah. Always."

"I'll stay." She leaped out of the Bronco and ran toward the house.

He kept on sitting there, staring into the rain. She'd stay. But he wouldn't have her. Not really. Not anymore.

She changed clothes. She ran back out the door to go on a date with Kevin Ryman. He let her go. He joked. He laughed with her about it. He played her buddy. He did it well.

And he didn't run after her and drag her back to hold on.

And that was harder, maybe, than anything he'd ever done in his life.

That was how you stayed friends with Jill Valentine. You faked it until you made it. You faked it until it eventually became real. He was a good guy. He didn't hurt girls for no reason. He wanted her in his life.

And maybe this was how he kept her there and kept her safe.

A few weeks later, she started staying out all night. He knew what that meant. He knew what it meant for them as well. She was involved. It wasn't just dates now. It was a relationship.

They had fun together as always. She bugged his stall that he used for his morning "newspaper break". The whole station was subjected to the rousing fun of him taking a shit.

As he came out of the bathroom, someone applauded. And Kevin shouted, "Keep eating that fiber big guy!"

He high fived Jill over lunch.

He stole her little car one day and had it painted. When she heard the laughing, she looked out the window. Her pretty little bug was now a four wheeled ad for erectile dysfunction medication. She turned back to look at him at his desk.

"Seriously?" She queried.

"You like it?"

"Oh yeah. I'm keeping it."

It made him laugh and love her.

Because that part never changed. He kept right on loving her.

She came home one night about two a.m. to find Gia the witch on her couch. She was playing the zombie game. She was in his shirt and playing his playstation.

Jill thought about running to her room to cry. But instead she sat down beside the witch and played the game with her. Dog sat on the floor, judging her.

Jill liked Gia. She was nice. She was complimentary and friendly and intelligent. They got along like peas and carrots. There was no reason not to like Gia the witch.

Except that she was clearly, clearly, taking a ride on the freight train.

Chris came out of the kitchen with a beer. He paused, watching them together on the couch.

Gia grinned at him. "You ready?"

Chris glanced at Jill. They held eyes for a long moment. He finally smiled back. "Let's roll."

Jill watched them head off to his room. Don't move out, he'd said. How in the fucking hell was she supposed to sit there while he boned the witch? How did one be friends with the person they loved? Jesus.

She heard Gia start laughing. She heard the rumble of his voice answering her. There was no more laughing after that. None.

Jill rose from the couch. "I'm leaving for awhile Dog. You want to come?"

She took Dog running at 2 a.m. She ran through the park. She stopped to give ten bucks to Larry the homeless guy who slept on the bench. She covered him with his newspaper like a blanket. She left a clean pair of pants and shoes for him. It's what she did once a week.

She ran home just about the time Gia was leaving for work. She hesitated and went into the house after waving to her as she drove down the street. Chris was in the kitchen making coffee.

Jill, panting from running, poured Dog some food. She felt him watching her. He said, finally, "You want to talk about this?"

"No. Ever. Not ever. Good night." She went into her room and closed the door.

He leaned on the counter and cursed.

She whoopied Chris during a meeting with Chief Irons regarding the sting operation to arrest the leader of the cult of witches. He stood up, he addressed the room; he was commanding and engaging and charming. She could see the shimmer of command all over him like a misty veil. He'd lead men one day, she was sure of that. He didn't know any other way but to be in charge.

He was Wesker without the edge of emptiness she was always sensing around their captain. Chris would command out of love for his troops. Chris would command because he believed in what he was doing. He was such a big fucking hero. Jill was fucking in love with him so much it hurt.

And then he sat down in his chair.

And the sound of farting filled the quiet room.

Jill didn't even look up from her notebook as she kept right on jotting notes. But the room was laughing all around them. Wesker was watching her. She held his pale gaze. She could feel his judgment. She just wasn't sure what it meant.

Kevin took her out. Plenty. He was charming. Always. And always funny.

They played pool and he lost. They played darts and she lost…unless he was drinking and then he was horrible at it. They went swimming when the weather turned warm enough to allow it. They went on a picnic to the lake one day with Chris and Gia, Barry and his girls, Joseph and Maggie. Brad was there with a date…shockingly. It was fun. They went on innertubes down the river.

There was barbecue and hotdogs and beer. It was a good time. A great time. Dog had a blast in the water. She leaned against a tree and let Kevin kiss the shit out of her. It was great. She wasn't ready to hop into bed with him. Not yet. But she was enjoying the kissing.

On nights when Chris had Gia over, she found reasons to leave. She couldn't stick around and listen. She was doing her best to move on. But she wasn't ready to sit there and hear Gia squealing like a stuck pig. She wasn't that strong.

Jill stood at the top of the rise looking down into the water beneath the ragged cliff she was standing on. There was no hope for it. She had to jump. Everyone was waiting behind or below for her. Gia had jumped. Kevin had jumped. Barry and the girls were down there. Joseph and Maggie had jumped together. Brad hadn't bothered.

She was alone on the cliff with Chris.

He was the only person who knew how desperately afraid she was of falling to her death. It was her greatest fear. She had nightmares about it constantly. If she didn't jump, she'd be outed as a pansy. She'd be ridiculed and laughed at.

If Brad Vickers even ATTEMPTED to call her a coward, she'd brain him.

Chris watched her in that little bikini she wasn't even really wearing. Some blue and white idea of man's torture device. The little bottoms were string and sin. He stepped up beside her and looked down.

"Long drop."

"Hmm."

"Want me to push you?"

She turned her eyes to him. His eyes were shielded by polarized wrap glasses. His chest and stomach were all muscle and sunkissed bronze skin. Jill wanted to grab the feather fine dusting of hair on his upper chest and jerk him toward her for a kiss.

Annoyed, she stepped back from him.

It hurt him to see her do it.

"Just jump," She told him, "I'll do it in a minute."

"No way, Valentine. If I jump, you'll chicken out."

Irritated, Jill spun to face him again. They could hear all the laughter from down below. There was plenty of splashing. Someone kept calling up to them to hurry up. Probably Brad…the bastard.

"What do you care, Redfield? Go jump in to your girlfriend. Hurry up. Before she casts a spell on me out of jealousy."

Chris laughed a little. "How would that go exactly? Shit and double shit…double double toil and trouble…shit and bubble…"

Jill snorted and laughed. "I'd probably get the runs."

"It would be fair trade. Since you gave them to me once." He put his hand out to her. "Take it, Valentine. Man up. Let's do this."

"Man up. What a stupid phrase. I'm not a man."

He looked at her in that little bikini. Her toned tummy, her perfect thighs, those long, long, long legs. Her little bracelet on that ankle. Her little tattoo of a heart on the left hip. Clearly, it was a nod to her name: Valentine.

No. She wasn't a guy. Not even close.

That damn bikini could barely contain her breasts. The cool breeze on the rise had made them pointy beneath the triangles of cloth trying to hold them in. Chris shook himself like a dog coming out of the water.

"You don't jump, Brad will have the whole station laughing at you tomorrow. You know that."

Jill turned her back on him to look out into the trees. The sun was starting to set. They'd be packing it in soon and going home. The Raccoon Forest at the base of the Arklay mountains was teeming with the beginning of summer. She could hear crickets chirping.

"Go on and jump, Red. I'm going to do it. I swear. I just…need a minute."

"I'll wait."

She turned to face him again. "Is your girlfriend jealous of us?"

"Why would she be? We're just friends."

It wasn't the best answer. He saw that on her face. But it was the truth. Kinda. Sorta. Not really but kinda. Maybe. Shit.

"Yeah. Friends."

"Ryman doesn't seem to care about us being friends."

'He doesn't. No reason to."

"Exactly."

"Gia's probably happy taking a ride on the freight train so she doesn't give a fuck." Jill shivered from the breeze now and wrapped her arms around herself.

"Seems that way." He watched her, curious what she was about here. "Kevin's fucking a porn star. I'm sure he's just fine too."

Jill shook her head, laughing a little. "We're not fucking. Not yet. Not all of us jump into bed on the first day, you fucking lecher."

He felt like someone had kicked him in the stomach. What was she saying here? She wasn't sleeping with Ryman? She was gone three nights a week. She was clearly sleeping over. They weren't screwing? How was that even possible?

Was the dude gay? Blind? Impotent? What? How could you sleep next to her and not fuck her while she screamed? It made no sense.

"You're not fucking him?"

"No." She spun back to face him. "Is that such a big surprise? You think I'm a whore that just jumps into bed with whoever asks?"

Chris watched her face, trying to see what she was feeling. She was offended, clearly, and he was sorry for that. But it wasn't as if there was a man alive that would believe she was sleeping over and just sleeping. It was insane. "No. No, I don't."

"We're dating, Redfield…you asshole. That doesn't mean screwing."

….really? Chris stared at her, dumbfounded. "It doesn't?"

"Not all the time. No. We're getting to know each other. That means talking, you idiot. Not everyone throws their giant cock into a girl and expects her to be happy with that. Intimacy. I'm sure you've heard of it."

Chris tucked his tongue in his cheek. "I'm familiar with the concept. Vaguely. You're having long conversations and what? Romance? With Kevin Ryman?"

"…yeah. So?"

"With Kevin RYMAN. The guy who once tried to light his own farts on fire and singed his butt hair."

Jill shook her head.

"The guy who confessed to bonging so much beer that he passed out on the floor of a random bar, possibly was rufied by a girl…or a dude…and woke up in a field with a cow. Was the cow his girlfriend for the night? We still don't know."

They held gazes. Finally, Jill started laughing.

"Kevin Ryman whom, under the watchful eye of the entirety of J's Bar, engaged in a belching contest with Jim Chapman and spontaneously threw up from it?"

Jill kept on laughing.

"The guy who recently drew a penis on the face of his coworker when they fell asleep at their desk…in permanent marker. THAT guy is romantic?"

Jill put her hand to her chest and laughed. It felt so good to laugh. She hadn't laughed in so long. Not like that. That was his power for her. Always had been. Nobody made her laugh like Chris Redfield. And then she put her hand on his arm while she did it.

And she hadn't touched him in almost two months now.

"Alright! I get it! But he's so sweet. He really is."

"But you're not sleeping with him."

"No. No, I'm not."

He watched her face when she stopped laughing finally and rubbed his arm. It was a good feeling. He'd missed her so much. More than just her body. He'd missed this. This easy laughter.

Chris held her gaze now and said, "You hard up?"

Something tingled her belly a little. "You offering?"

"I'm seeing someone. You're seeing someone. But she's not my girlfriend. He's not your boyfriend. It's not against the rules. Right?"

The wind tickled their faces. "You think those rules still apply?"

"You saying they don't?"

Down below, someone was laughing like a donkey. There was loud splashing. And Joseph was shouting up to them now to hurry up. Brad was making calls about chicken licken fricken or something. Someone was whistling.

Jill finally answered him, "I don't poach other girl's guys, Redfield."

"I'm not her guy."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Yeah. I'm yours. I'm still your guy, Jill. I just can't be your man. What that means? I don't fucking know what that means. But I'm still your guy. Unless he is."

They held gazes again. Two different shades of blue. It was a dangerous answer she could give him. But she gave it.

"He's not my guy." It was whisper soft.

"Yeah. Shit." His arm looped around her waist to pull her into him. Her arms wrapped around his neck. It was a good hug. He squeezed her. She put her face against his neck.

Jill made some sound like she'd start crying.

He shook his head, hard. "Don't. Don't. If you do, I will. And I'll NEVER live that down."

And now she laughed, a little wetly, against him.

Down below, someone hit the trigger of an air horn. And a used a megaphone to shout up to them.

"WE KNOW YOU ARE STILL UP THERE! JUMP NOW OR WE WILL TELL EVERYONE IN THE RPD THAT YOU ARE BOTH CHICKENS."

Did they think they were twelve years old?

Seriously.

He said, softly, "We should probably jump."

"We should. We should just jump. Rip off the band-aid."

"No anesthesia."

"No anesthesia." She whispered it.

Her hand shifted to the side of his face. It turned him toward her. Chris made some sound and she nuzzled their faces together. He turned, just a little, and put his tongue into her mouth. Jill made a little desperate moan.

How was this helping anything?

His hand slid into her bikini top and covered her breast. Yep. Definitely not helping. This was not in the new guidelines for friendship. Nope.

Jill pulled away a little. "We should…"

"Yep…yeah. Stop."

"Mmm. Yeah. Stop is good."

"Yep. Just…"

"…yeah." Her tongue plunged into his mouth as she shifted and he lifted her. Her legs wrapped around his waist and his hands slid into her bikini bottoms. There was no freight train here. This? This was what desperate longing felt like.

It was needy and raw.

And it hurt them both to do it. And felt right. And scared her.

Because she was pretty sure being friends with someone was impossible when you were in love with them. And she was. She so was. She was in love with her best friend. A complicated mess on a good day, this was made worse because if they didn't stop what they were doing and someone saw them? It would hurt more than just them.

She leaped off him and he let her.

"Fuck." She whispered.

He watched her. "We could."

And now she shook her head at him. "Stop it. Stop. You ended it. You. For god's sake, Redfield, stick to your guns here. In or out."

Annoyed that she was right and he was the girl in this moment, chasing after the one that got away, Chris cursed. He nodded a little. "Shit. I want to be in, Jill. I want to be in you."

Oh. His dirty mouth. It worked every time.

"I went all in. All in. And out...and in again."

They stared at each other. They both pictured it. Her nipples said she liked it. He moved to grab her and she backed away.

"Stop it. That's not helping."

"Against the rules?"

"How the hell do I know what the rules are anymore? You have to back off I think. I can't get over you if you don't back off. And you pulled the plug here. I'm just trying to figure that part out."

Chris nodded, nodded again, and paced away. "What if…" He hesitated and plunged ahead, "What if I asked for a transfer to Bravo?"

"..what?"

"I could transfer to Bravo. Then…we wouldn't work together anymore."

Her heart was pounding. So hard. It hurt. "You want to get away from me?"

"No!" That scared them both since he pretty much shouted it. She jumped, "Sorry. No. I meant…what if I transferred to Bravo so we could do this. We could be together. Maybe if I transferred."

She stared at him. She stared at him while a bird called somewhere in the distance. "You want to tank your career to be with me?" It sounded so stupid to hear it out loud.

"No. Just…maybe I could j—"

"Let's jump." She passed by him, breathing so hard she was afraid she was going to cry. "Let's just jump down now."

Chris grabbed her arm. "Wait. Hey. What?"

Jill shook him loose. She stared at him again. "You are meant to do this, Chris. I saw that in that meeting the other day. You are meant to lead men and battle the dark and win. You're a hero. Or you will be. It's what you do. And you want to take a step down to the B-Team. For what? For the thief's daughter? Don't be stupid. Don't. I won't be the reason you fail. I couldn't live with myself if I let that happen."

"I don't understand what that means, Jill. What are you saying here?"

"You're better than me. Or Joseph. Or Barry. Or Brad." She held his gaze. And said it. For both of them, "You might one day be better than Wesker. He leads and men follow. Because he's smart and commanding. But you? You'll lead and men will WANT to follow you, Chris. Because you're good. You're good in your bones. You're made to lead. I won't be the reason you don't. I won't."

She shook her head at him again. "You were right. You were so right. We can't be together. We wouldn't just kill each other. We'd destroy each other. You're worried about getting me killed? There's more than one way to die. I'd kill you just as easily if I torched your career. You are not the guy who rides a desk in the RPD to retirement. That's not you. Don't you get it? This fucking town isn't where your career goes to die. You're too good for that. I won't be the reason you fail."

Humbled, scared, and crazy about her, Chris tried to take her hand, "Jill…I love you. I can't do anything but that."

"I know. I know that." She grabbed his face and held it. "I know it. But you were right. We are doing ok here. Let's keep doing ok. Eventually? We'll get back to being friends. Move on with Gia. I'll move on with Kevin. And we'll be ok."

"I don't want you to move on with fucking Kevin. I want you to move on top of me."

Jill laughed, so sad, so sad for him. "You dirty lecher."

"Jill...I don't know what to say."

He grabbed her wrists and turned his face into her hand. She stroked his hair. "Me either. I don't know what's left to say, Chris."

"You love me?"

So, there was something left to say after all.

She went into his arms for the answer to that. And hugged him like she'd take pieces of him with her when she left. They clung and finally separated.

"I love you, you big squish. I love you." And she turned. Terrified of falling, it turned out she needed the right incentive to jump.

Apparently, she needed the incentive of getting away from him.

She leaped over the edge toward the water and tumbled, listening to the cheers of those below. He remained on the cliff, feeling the hammer of his heart for her. Too good for this, she'd said. Too good for me is what she meant.

It was the first moment he realized that being Chris Redfield might mean picking the fight over the girl. Maybe the hero saved the day and didn't get the girl. Maybe it meant he'd lead men…alone. And she was telling him the world needed him.

The world needed Chris Redfield.

And Chris Redfield needed the girl.

But she'd leaped over a cliff to let him go. And he was still standing there….holding on to the ghost of Jill Valentine.


	20. Fake it 'til you Make It

**Twenty:**

 **Fake it 'til you make it**

* * *

The hardest part about being in love with Jill Valentine was sitting across the desk from her at work. He was supposed to be working on coordinating with the RPD to apprehend the priest and work toward closing down the Witch murders. Instead?

He was thinking about reaching across the desk and grabbing her uniform. He was thinking about throwing her down on their desks, while the rest of the team watched, and drilling her through their pants. She glanced up at him and smiled.

"You find something helpful?"

Chris snorted and shook his head, "Nope. Not helpful at all." He shifted on his chair, adjusting his swollen dick, "Useless. Mostly."

Jill was his best friend. That was true. She was his buddy now, in the weeks since they'd ended things, in a way she hadn't been in months. They'd managed to come out of the mess of what could have been an ugly break up somehow closer.

She popped into his room to tell him about stuff in the RPD she discovered. He started bringing coffee to work for her in the morning because she liked it from the corner cart and never got there on time to get it before it closed for the morning. Jill was always late. It was her thing.

They played Playstation and beat the zombie game. The ending was lame and boring. They played hackeysack and took Dog on walks and hikes together. They never, ever, talked about who they were seeing or dating or doing. They went swimming and diving and were constantly kick boxing each other. Sometimes comically.

Chris was _ **awesome**_ at fist fighting. Chris was ** _awful_** at kickboxing. But he sure tried. He kept on trying long after she knew he might be hopeless at acrobatics.

He dogged her on her dates with Kevin. He showed up at the restaurants or the bars or the diners they were at and annoyed the piss out of them. She pretty much guaranteed that he wouldn't be fucking any other woman in that house where they lived. When he brought Gia home, she cranked up her music in the living room and had a karaoke fest with Rebecca Chambers from Bravo Team.

She c _onstantly_ had girls in his house.

She had Rebecca over constantly. She had Cindy from the bar over. She had sleepovers. She had half naked women in his bathroom at odd hours. He came out once to find Felicity from V.I.C.E. taking a piss with the newspaper at 3 a.m.

There was no peace for him in his house with all these women around.

Kevin was always around too. He was eating Chris' nachos and stealing his beer. The freaking gank, he never replaced what he took.

Girls were everywhere, all the time. Jill was constantly running around in a white tank top and tiny shorts. She was painting her nails in booty shorts. She was laughing on the phone in a sports bra and yoga pants. He caught a glimpse of her once coming out of the bedroom to the hall closet to get some hair stuff in a thong. A thong. A thong and some push-up bra that made her breasts look like an obscene wet dream he'd had as a boy.

She didn't make it any better when she dressed. She wore some kind of black dress that barely covered that perfect ass. Rebecca and Felicity were dressed up too. They were both beautiful girls. They were. They pixie pretty and amazon lush. But they weren't Jill.

Jill was everything.

She paused in the living room while the other two laughed and he whistled at them. He was sitting on the couch watching football. "Where you gals headed off to this evening? Some place to murder poor young horn dogs where they stand."

Rebecca giggled. Felicity said, "You want to come along? We're going to a karaoke bar in Gerbiltown."

"Sounds pretty fucking awful." And he laughed now, congenially.

Felicity loved that face of his. He was all kinds of hot. She said, "You come with us, Redfield. I'll buy you a drink and let you take me home afterward."

Rebecca snorted as she gathered her purse.

He considered her. She was hot stuff, no lie. All boobs and blonde hair and dirty looks. But she was Jill's pal. And he wasn't going to do that to her.

"Have to pass, Riker. Without any hard feelings. I'm hung up on a girl."

"That witch you're tagging?"

"Sorta. But not just her."

"Ouch. But no hard feelings, handsome. Some other time."

Jill came into the living room in knee high boots and that black dress. He could see the tops of her lacy thigh highs as she walked. She grinned at him. "You chillin here tonight, Red?"

"That's the rumor."

"Then we will see you later."

She left with the other girls laughing. And he had a visceral image of putting his hand under her skirt and finger fucking her until she screamed. Instead? He waited until she closed the door, put his hand in his pants, and rubbed one off thinking about her, Felicity, and Rebecca Chambers in a girl on girl three way.

Worked like a charm. And had him finished in about two seconds.

To get back at her invasion on his sanity, Chris tortured her at work. He filled her desk drawer with rotten eggs. He paid Louisa in carpool to have her Bug towed to the impound lot. He whoopied her at least three times a day. Once, he leaped up on the table in the cafeteria and recited a dirty poem to her about her being the "master of unlocking". He did it to the theme of Ice, Ice Baby which somehow made it worse.

 _Your hands are the master of opening doors…_

 _Your fists are the master of beating up whores…_

 _Your toothbrush is the master of scrubbing the floors…_

 _Your lockpicks are something we'd all like to see…_

 _That guy over there was watching you pee._

He pointed to Brad Vickers and made everyone laugh.

 _You probably could open the vault of a bank…_

 _After you work out, you smell pretty rank…_

 _You're a bit of a brown nose, we all know its true…_

 _Your favoritest color in the known world is blue…_

Jill was pretty convinced he was just making this horrid shit up as he went. Beside her, Felicity said, "That guy is an idiot."

Jill agreed as Chris went on with his horrible poem.

 _Oh master of unlocking, turn your picks in my heart…_

 _I can't even promise I won't make a fart…_

Felicity added, "You're aware he's in love with you right?"

Surprised, Jill turned her gaze over. "How so?"

"Girl. That guy? He's nuts for you. It's not rocket science, Valentine. It's truth. I tried to get him to take me to bed when we were hanging out last week." Felicity studied Jill's face and saw it. She saw the little flash of jealousy. "He could have done it. I know he has. The girls in accounting are always giggling about it. They call him the freight train. He throws it down when you ask."

Felicity chuckled a little, "Or he used to. Now? He apparently hangs out at home on a Friday night while his roommate has half of the RPD over for drinks and karaoke and turns down willing girls. Why I wonder?"

Jill laughed a little now. "He's my buddy. Always has been."

"Your buddy is in love with you. Big time. You better use those lock picks to lock him back up, girl. Or he's going to get hurt."

Jill watched him as he went into the last stanza of the poem.

 _You help stop terrorists, you once fought a witch…_

 _Those two pervs over there would like to make you a sammich…_

 _Oh, master of unlocking, why don't you try?_

 _To open our hearts before we all cry._

Someone whistled. Felicity glanced at her. "I rest my case. Put him out of his misery, girl. Quick."

Jill shook her head at him. He leaped off the table and bowed. Joseph was slapping him on the back. Rebecca said, quietly, "I can think of worse things than having Chris Redfield be in love with you."

Felicity nodded, "Agreed. You sure he don't have a chance?"

Jill chuckled a little. "Best friends forever. It's not like that."

Rebecca giggled a little. "I wish it was like that for me."

Jill laughed and rose from the table. She moved across the cafeteria. Chris grinned at her, all teeth. "That was the most awful thing anyone, ever, has recited."

And now he laughed. "Seriously? You've heard Ice, Ice Baby right? That was an HOMAGE."

"You have no musical talent whatsoever, Red. It's pretty bad."

They patrolled the park when a tip came in about a body being found in the woods. It had been, apparently, eaten. The first suspect was wolves but the autopsy that came back said humanoid. Humanoid. Not human. What the fuck did that even mean?

Jill stopped to see Larry and check up on him on his bench.

He was wearing new shoes, a new shirt, and pants. Someone else had been bringing him clothing. He looked washed and well fed.

Jill said, "Hey Larry, how you doin?"

Larry grinned happily, "Good. Gots a belly full of food and clean underwear. I'm grand."

He shifted and the jacket he wore opened to show the t-shirt underneath. It was blue and had Elmer Fudd on it. She'd seen it plenty. She knew who was bringing him clothes.

"Yeah. Yeah you are."

And her heart ached. Because Chris Redfield was bringing him clothes. The big squish.

Joseph and Maggie got engaged. They had an impromptu party to celebrate. They tied the knot at the courthouse and everyone showed up to celebrate.

He washing his hands in the bathroom at the reception hall where they were having their reception. She came out of a stall and froze, watching him. She had on a pink dress that shimmered.

He wore a good suit in dove gray. It felt better than it should, which told her someone had taken him shopping. Probably the witch that waited in the reception hall.

The shirt he wore was baby blue and did wonders for his eyes.

Jill shifted over to wash her hands. There was only one towel. So they shared it. She said, softly, "It's so great about Joe and Maggie huh?"

"Oh yeah. Life's too short you know?"

"Yeah." The little purse in her had slipped and glanced off the sink, bouncing on the floor. "Shit."

She bent over to pick it up. The dress hiked up her thighs. God. GOD. He was going to earn a space in heaven for how much he wanted her and didn't touch her.

Sorta.

She collected her things off the ground and poked them back in her little purse. And he could see the very, very bottom of her perky little ass sticking out the bottom of that dress. He was rock hard and needy.

She rose and caught his eyes in the mirror.

He shifted toward her. She dropped the purse again.

He put her hands on the sink. He hiked up her skirt. He would have stopped, maybe, but he cupped her over those tiny panties…and she was already damp.

They held eyes in the mirror. And he said, "Damnit, Jill."

Her voice whispered, "I'm sorry."

For what? He didn't care.

He slid his hand into her panties and put his fingers in her. She gasped, bucking against his hand. His other hand slid up her front and covered her mouth. He pulled her back against him. He worked her body, delving and deep. The door to the bathroom shivered, signaling someone arriving.

He dragged her into a stall and shut it, lifting her off the floor with her back against his front so only his feet were visible. He kept pumping his fingers into her body while the voices laughed and swirled around them. It was Rebecca apparently and another woman. Jill, terrified it was Gia, tried to remove his hand from her but he held her mouth and fucked her with those fingers. And she couldn't care. Didn't care. Wouldn't care.

The bathroom door opened again and left silence behind.

He lowered her to the floor, turned her around, and she splayed her hands on the wall behind the toilet. He hiked up her skirt, shifted her panties to the side, and drove his fingers into her body while she crudely rode his hand. He cupped his palm around her thrusting, wet heat and the delicious curve of her ass. And he wanted to fuck her. He wanted to fuck her like nothing he'd ever known.

She mewled, gasping, and he spread those perfect cheeks of hers to see the heat of her there as he fingered her. God, she was amazing. She was wet and hot around his fingers. She was sucking him in while she humped his hand. He wanted to hook his thumb into her tight little hole but slid his hand around her hip instead, parted her creamy folds, and played with her clit like he'd own her. And she was done. She bit her lips and came, humping and crying out. He turned her quickly and put his tongue in her mouth. It was the only way he could think of to stop her screaming.

Jill made a desperate sound and grabbed his ears. They tried to each other's faces off. He kept on pumping her full of fingers while she screamed into his mouth. He pulled back to drag a desperate breath and she gasped, "I can't. I can't."

She was so wet. Her thighs were wet. His hand was soaked from her.

He wanted to drop to his knees and lick her clean.

God. She was right. They couldn't.

He had a fucking DATE out there in the hall. So, did she. She shoved him away from her hard enough to have him hitting the stall door. She didn't look at him. She escaped.

He was a better guy than this. He wasn't this guy. In all his life, he'd never been ashamed of his feelings like he was now. He wasn't a guy who cheated on a girl. If this wasn't cheating, what was?

Anger made him punch the door of the stall and send it slapping hard into the other side.

He went back to the party and ached.

Jill stopped dating Kevin. Chris heard about it one morning at the coffee cart. Felicity was talking to Rebecca about it behind him.

"Why?" Rebecca queried, doctoring her coffee with cream and sugar.

Felicity answered, "He told me she said there was another guy in there. And she didn't want to hurt him. He's pretty busted up about it."

Rebecca considered this and answered, "Who's the other guy?"

"I don't know." Felicity glanced at Chris' back and winked.

Rebecca, giggling, nodded.

He didn't see them. But they giggled a little when he went back to his desk.

She'd stopped seeing Kevin. There was another guy. It was an odd feeling in his guts. He wasn't sure how to feel about it. He didn't have the right, really, to feel anything about it.

A little girl went missing one afternoon. Her body was found near the woods and the park again. Her little face and arms and belly had been brutally gnawed open and savaged. Barry, with his two little girls, handled it badly.

He was so mad.

They redoubled their efforts to locate the perpetrators. They brought in the priest to interrogate him. They collected a few more members of the witch cult. Chris was instrumental in the whole thing.

He got the priest to start singing. He ridiculed him and poked at his ego and bad copped him until he just started shouting about greatness, and the works of the "true lord", and immortality. He preens, Chris had said, and he did. He also sang like a canary.

On the mat, Jill and Wesker grew as mirrors of each other. He taught her redirect an assault. He threw her; she came back. She threw him; he came back. His drive, his determination, his dedication to the skills he taught her was unparalleled. Her ability to get up, get back up and go on, was like nothing he'd ever seen.

He knocked her around and tried to take her down. She kept on fighting.

He taught her about anticipating your opponent. He taught her about utilizing your own pain to guide your focus. With Redfield out of her way, she flourished. She was his devoted pupil. They trained at work, after work, before work. She'd meet him in the gym at any time he asked.

If he'd been anyone else but Albert Wesker, rumors would have circulated about an affair by now. But it was never that. It was never sexual. He didn't touch her or grope her or grind on her. He didn't even likely _see_ her as female. He just saw her potential.

And she gave him everything she had.

They fought without stopping one day until they were both sweaty and satisfied with the fact that neither had lost. Wesker helped her to her feet. Jill grinned up at him.

"Sir, I think I might have just won."

Curious, Wesker lifted a brow, "You didn't beat me."

"No. But you didn't beat me either. I kinda think that's a win."

She had him there.

They did pretty good at being friends, she and Chris. They were easy going and comfortable and funny. After the shift was over one day, she changed in the locker room for a date and came into the office to close down her work for the day.

He was the last person in the office, still chugging along on whatever report he was working on.

He was dedicated. She doubted there was another person alive as dedicated as him.

Chris glanced up at her and his hands fumbled on the key board. She was wearing a blue tube top and some excuse for a miniskirt. She had on kneehigh boots in black and her shoulder holster. Her hair was slick and dark around her face and she had dark eye liner, red, red, red lips and enough mascara to make her lashes look ten feet long.

Jill grinned at him when she settled in her chair and started closing down programs. "No date tonight?"

Chris shifted in his chair, trying to gather his thoughts. "…nope. No date. Just finishing up this report for Wesker. It's already a day late."

"Uh-oh," Jill chuckled and jotted something down on her notepad on the desk, "Someone's going to get a spanking if they don't hurry up."

"That's horrifying. You think he wears sunglasses when he spanks girls?"

Jill chuckled a little. "I don't think he spanks anyone, honestly. Can you imagine him naked and fucking some girl while she screams?"

No. Because he was picturing her screaming. But it wasn't his captain fucking her. It was him.

"I bet he's a weirdo who likes girls to put him in a diaper and feed him baby food."

Jill laughed again at the image. "He seems so focused. I bet he never even jerks off. There's no freight training for Albert Wesker."

She shifted and the air conditioning turned on above their desk. It blew cold air down on them and made her skin burst in goosebumps. And then her little nipples decided to poke against that blasted tube top.

Holy hell.

Jesus. She couldn't possibly know what she was doing to him. He could fucking taste her in his mouth. He had completely stopped typing to look at her. His pencil rolled off the desk and hit the floor with a tinkle of sound.

Jill said, "You have dinner plans?"

He was bending to get his pencil. He could see her tapping one of those little boots. He knew what he wanted to eat. Yeah. Yeah, he did.

He left the pencil on the floor.

Jill said, "What do you think about Indian food for a first date? Probably not the best idea huh? Could be really bad to rip a big fart at the dinner table."

She glanced over their desks and didn't see him. "Chris? Where'd you go? What are you hungry for man? That's the best way to figure out where to eat."

He was watching her thighs and boots shift below the desk. She uncrossed her legs to shift to get something on her desk. He caught a glimpse of the tops of her thigh highs. And he shifted toward her.

"What about sushi?" She intoned, closing down her report on the robbery at the movie plex, "I could totally go for a spicey tuna handroll man. What are you doing down there, Redfield? Taking a nap?"

Nope. No nap.

She felt his hands slid down the insides of her thighs. Shocked, instantly aroused, she gasped and opened her thighs for him. And he she wore tiny, lacy, little red panties. Her legs practically fell open for him.

The hungry little thing. She was desperate for it too. He was so hard it was painful.

Those red panties basically came apart in his hand as he jerked on them. Her body bucked, her hands grabbed the desk, and he filled her full of his tongue. And he showed her what he was hungry for. He wasn't gentle. He wasn't even delicate. He buried his face against her body and ate her alive. Jill made a desperate cry and he tilted her hips toward his teeth, his tongue, his lips, and his hunger.

The office door opened and Brad came in. He glanced at her and Jill put her fingers to the keys of her computer to look busy. He said, "You look hot, Valentine. Big date?"

Chris hooked his thumb into her body and sucked on her clit. He sucked it fast and hard and stole her breath. Her reply was a breathy laugh. "Something like that."

"Well good luck, yeah? I've got one myself. Excited?"

He rubbed his nose all over her clit. He sucked her creamy lips into his mouth and hummed against her body. He hummed and he killed her where she sat.

Jill nodded, smiling. Chris swirled his tongue inside of her and made her eyes try to cross. "Good luck, dude."

"Thanks. See ya."

The door had barely closed and she cried out. He set his teeth against her clit and made her insane.

Jill knew there cameras here in the office. Hadn't Wesker said as much. Her hands shot below the desk and buried in his hair. She ground his face against her body and felt him laugh, laugh and suck her swollen wet heat into his mouth to suckle. Jesus. He tongued her, he took her, his fingers fucked her while she bucked, gasping and grinding against him.

And her hand casually knocked her notebook to the floor.

She slid to the floor to get it. He drug her under the desk and filled her full of his driving fingers. His thumb found her aching apex and flicked, flicked, flicked. She grabbed his face and held on. And his voice? His dirty, wonderful voice said, "You're what I'm hungry for."

She tried to kiss him and he shook his head and pushed her back into her chair. She set the notebook down on the desk and he grabbed her hip and started licking. He didn't stop. He licked and licked and sucked and fucked and shot her brain out of her ass.

Jill grunted, "I'm gonna come. Stop. I'm gonna come if you don't stop."

And he laughed under the desk.

So, she came. She came in his mouth while he sucked on her body. And he tongued her through that thrusting, gasping, grunting release. She was sopping wet with it, with her own need, from his mouth. He licked her from one end to the other while she shuddered. And then he fingered her so hard, so deep, so fast that she screamed.

She tried to be quiet. She did. But she couldn't be quiet. She screamed and thrashed in her chair. He jerked her under the desk, covered her mouth, and kept fucking her body with his hand. "Shh. SHHH. Jill, shhh."

Right.

Surely, he was kidding.

She grabbed at his pants and he pushed her hands away. He held them behind her back and used his other one to destroy her between her thighs. She bucked, so wet his hand slipped and rolled against her. She gasped out for him to fuck her.

He shook his head and drove her into the wall of need with just those fingers. He jerked down her tube top and helped himself to a mouth full of breast. He tried to suck the whole thing into his mouth while she came, came, came. She came and gushed into his hand and bucked and arched into his sucking mouth.

And again. Again. He put her back in her chair with her top back in place, tilted her hips to his mouth, and licked her clean. He licked and rolled and laved her clean. She was making an unh unh unh sound. He raked his nails, so so gently, down the insides of her thighs and left her a puddle of need in her chair.

And he came out from under the desk, with his pencil, set it on the desk beside his notebook and left the room. He didn't even say goodnight. He just…he left.

She sat in her chair quivering.

This was ridiculous. This whole thing was so stupid. How was this helping either of them? Who was this helping? She drummed her nails on the table, irritated that they couldn't seem to keep their hands off each other.

She had to put a stop to it.

But she went on her date. It went fine. It went ok. She went home and found him in the kitchen noshing on fresh baked cookies he'd made. She opened her mouth to refute him for touching her.

She opened her mouth to pick a fight or something that would stop what _this_ thing was they were doing to each other.

But he queried, "You want some?"

And he held out a cookie.

She wanted some alright. But he wasn't offering that. And she didn't know how to refuse anyway.

So Jill took the cookie and kept on pretending they weren't breaking each other's hearts.

* * *

 _Post Note: Originally I cut a bunch of this out to de-smut the story a little. But I hate it without all the passion. I recently watched the Viral Campaign videos released by Capcom during RE5 and reminded myself that the Chris in this story is reflected in those videos. Human. Needy. A man who DATES and LAUGHS and NEEDS. So I stand by this uneven and beautifully long messy journey I made for them. Why not? It feels so perfectly imperfect. So I'm editing it as I go, but mostly? I'm stitching together the world the way I want it. Thank you for reading._


	21. The Only Way Back is Forward

**Twenty-One:**

 **The Only Way Back is Forward**

* * *

The next day at work he whoopied her. And she set off a stink bomb in his desk that permeated all his paperwork. They had to laugh when they both, BOTH, had the same idea to doctor the other's desk with super glue. Neither could pick up a pen, a stapler, or a notebook.

And it made them laugh.

They brain stormed the cannibal murders. Joseph, Brad, and Barry were all about finding them and putting them down. They couldn't do much to stop them without knowing where they were hiding. They did A LOT of canvasing areas to try to locate them.

He was doing dishes when she came home from a date a week later. Dog was gnawing his bone on the floor under the table. He glanced over his shoulder at her. "Who this time?"

"Bartender at J's."

"Go ok?"

"Sure."

He was in a pair of old sweat pants. He was barefooted and bare chested and bronze. She could tell he'd been swimming a lot lately. It made his coppery skin glow. The rest of the world burned. Chris Redfield just bronzed.

She was in a little white summer dress with blue sandals. When she shifted, he was pretty sure she wasn't wearing a bra. But maybe the dress, with skinny little spaghetti straps, couldn't tolerate one. Maybe. Or maybe she was trying to kill him.

Maybe.

He glanced at her in the window above the sink, "So what now? Bed?"

Oh. What an offer. But it wasn't really. It was a question. He wasn't offering. Not anymore.

Angry about it, Jill moved toward him.

She slid her hand into his sweatpants and wrapped her fist around him. She wasn't even delicate about it. She just jerked and milked him. He dropped the plate in his hands into the soapy water and grabbed the edge of the sink.

She spun him, knelt, and put her mouth on him. His hands tunneled into her hair. She returned the favor. She swallowed him like she'd choke to death on the length and girth of him. Her hands cupped, her mouth dove, her lips and tongue swirled and sucked. And it didn't take long at all. He watched her make a mad attempt to swallow the whole fat length of him and it worked like a charm.

He tried to pull her mouth off and save her but she wouldn't move. So, he shot in her mouth. With a grunt, he blew his load right into her amorous little wet cavern. She drew back, bit down on his thigh and stole his breath, and jerked up his pants.

And then she whistled for Dog and went to bed.

Just like that.

He leaned on the sink, shivered, and went down the hallway. Her door was locked, which amused him. He put his shoulder to it and knocked it open.

She was shocked and standing there in her bra and panties while she took her hair down from its pins. And on her little dresser there was a rather interesting little vibrator in blue.

Jill said, "That was locked." She glanced at the vibrator. He glanced at it. They both knew she'd been about to use it.

Jesus.

Quietly, she mused, "This could be awkward."

Her thighs trembled at the look on his face. He tilted his head at her. "You want me to go?"

She licked her dry lips and shook her head: No.

"You want me to help you out?"

She cleared her throat twice..and nodded: yes.

He grabbed her and threw her on the bed. She gasped, grabbed a handful of his hair and kissed him, and he grabbed her hips and jerked her down the bed to him. He grabbed the little vibrator off the dresser, yanked her panties to the side, and gave her back the torture she'd inflicted on him.

She didn't even have a chance to do anything but shout in surprise. Dog kept on lying on his bed beside hers and snoring. Chris climbed onto the bed on his knees. Jill grabbed his arm and wrist like she'd stop him but she didn't stop him. She helped him. She helped him drive that little blue monster into her body. And she was, like always, already so wet for it. So ready.

He pinned her down with a hand on her collarbone and shoved it into her while she bucked, bucked, and came with a desperate shout of release. And he jerked it out of her body while she twisted, clenched, and sobbed out his name with need. And, always the gentlemen, he jerked her hips to his face to lick her clean while she twisted her fingers into his hair and humped him.

Chris rolled off her and left her panting on the bed.

God damn freight train, she thought madly, did he know any other way than to leave her flat?

The next day he'd fixed her door and frame so she could lock it again…but she didn't lock it anymore. She didn't lock it at all.

But he didn't knock it down again either.

Whatever they were doing to each other, it seemed to be reaching a boiling point. One way or the other, she had a feeling it was going to explode and kill them both.

She was almost ready to die for it.

Testing a theory, she put her socked foot in his crotch under their desks one day while everyone else was at lunch. He let her. He let her rub her foot all over him while he worked. He didn't even stop typing his report. But one of his hand slid under the desk to help her tease him.

They didn't look at each other.

They went home and had tacos and watched The Late Show with Letterman. Her hand slid down into his pants and finished what her foot had started at work. They didn't look at each other while she jerked him off. His hand joined hers in his pants to help her.

They went to bed without a word about it.

Two teenagers were found slaughtered in their car near the woods. Horrible. They'd lost chunks of throat and wrist and groin. It was a bloody, macabre, horrible disaster. The city was getting more frightened each time the night fell.

They imposed curfew to have people inside by dark.

Jill went to check on Larry in the park again. He had a baseball bat, a clean pair of pants, and a smile on his face. The shirt he wore? It was red and white striped and had Where's Waldo? on it.

She gave him the cash in her pocket, petted his mutt, and spent the afternoon hearing stories about Vietnam. She went back to their house just outside of town and took Dog on a run. She stayed out well passed the curfew.

Jill opened the door and let Dog inside to run into the kitchen to get water.

Chris came down the hallway into the living room.

She said, "I saw Gia leaving as I was running up. Everything ok?"

He crossed his arms over his chest. He was getting bigger almost every day. She wondered if he'd get so big that he wouldn't be able to cross his arms anymore. Her brain tried to picture it.

And he surprised the hell out of her, "She's gone. That's done. It's been done for awhile. She was just getting the rest of her stuff. And you missed curfew."

She's gone. That's done. That's what he said. Why? Why was it done?

Jill, breathing heavily and sweating from her run, queried, "Why is it done?"

Chris shook his head at her, "Doesn't matter. It ran its course and its done. You missed curfew."

He looked so angry. Surprised, she held his gaze. "Not by much. And we're outside the city limits here, Chris. So, the curfew doesn't technically apply."

"It applies. It applies to you. You get your ass back before curfew, Jill. End of story."

Oh.

Ohhhh.

Jill felt the roll of that anger back on her now. She lifted both brows. "Excuse me all the to hell but it sounds like…and correct me if I'm wrong…it sounds like you just gave me an ORDER."

Chris shifted, eyeing her. "Don't fuck with me on this, Jill. The curfew isn't a joke. You think I want to find you at the park missing half your damn face?"

Jill held his look. Dog glanced between them and skulked out of the room to hide. Jill put one hand on her sweaty hip.

"You're not my boss, Redfield. Not now. Not ever. You don't tell me what to do."

Chris shrugged now and looked serious in a way she'd never seen him. He wore command like some men wore jeans. It was effortless and fit him like a glove.

"Try me. I will drag you back here kicking screaming. I will hunt you down in whatever dive bar or bed you're in and drag you back. See if I don't."

"You wouldn't fucking dare."

"TRY ME." He never shouted. But he shouted now. And scared her. She jumped.

"You don't get to tell me what to do, Redfield. Or WHO to do. Or where to go. OR WHEN TO COME HOME." And she shouted now too. It felt good to do it. They'd been living in this house faking for weeks. They needed a good fight. "You arrogant fucking asshat. I DO WHAT I WANT."

He took a step toward her and she braced, watching him.

"Oh, what?!" And she laughed now, harshly, "You gonna drag me by my fucking hair like a caveman and MAKE ME BEHAVE!?"

They eyed each other. This was the Chris Redfield she'd read about in that file on Wesker's desk. It told the story of the guy, in combat, that didn't flinch and didn't back down and didn't relent. He faced adversity and rose above it. That was all he knew how to do. It was interesting that she was the adversity he was facing.

A big squish with no tolerance for bullshit.

And he finally, finally, answered her, "If that's what it takes, you're god damn right I will."

Jill laughed again, so angry it hurt in her bones. She grabbed her keys from where she'd tossed them on the table by the door. "Fuck you, you Neanderthal. You don't OWN ME."

"Don't do it, Jill." A warning. A threat? A promise? Who knew.

She gave him the finger over her shoulder and stomped out of the house.

And she ran.

She was the fastest person she knew. She ran like the wind. She ran straight into town and into the park. Already tired from her previous run, this one stole her breath and put a stitch in her side. She limped and felt it as she grabbed the edge of a bench and breathed.

The threatening rain finally cut loose. It soaked her face and hair and heavily panting body in minutes. Raccoon City was always raining. It didn't apparently know any other way to be but soggy and damp.

She turned, rubbing her throbbing side, and moved toward the clock tower to check on Larry.

The rain was barreling down on her now. It was heavy and accompanied by thunder and a flash of lightning. She reached the clock tower and noticed Larry wasn't on his bench. He had probably taken shelter under the bridge like he was known to do while it was raining. Sometimes during a storm he would go to J's Bar and Cindy would get him a drink while he waited it out.

Jill turned back to find a place to get out of the rain and nearly pissed herself.

He was RIGHT THERE. He grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder. It was so unexpected, such a surprise, that she didn't even struggle. He kicked open the door of the clock tower and dumped her on the floor inside.

It was full of old dusty tarps inside. Cans of paint were stacked against one wall. There was a winding staircase that would take you to the top to look out over the city. Someone had written some pretty hilarious and rude graffiti on one wall that was currently being painted over.

Jill got to her feet, huffing in the damp darkness.

Chris kicked the door closed behind them.

She said, soft and angry, "You know any other way of doing things but being a fucking freight train? Like kicking in doors and dragging girls around do ya? You could try a gentler touch, Redfield, seriously. Some girls might object to being bossed around, dumped on the ground, and sneered at."

His voice filled the silence after her little speech, "The last body was found a hundred yards from here. A HUNDRED YARDS." He shook his head, laughing without humor. It was mirthless. And he was never without humor. This solemn anger scared her a little. "You'd risk your fucking life to what…teach me a lesson?"

The rage boiled in her blood. "God damnit, Chris. I CAN TAKE CARE OF MYSELF! I'm not some fucking teenager in a car necking. Stop following me. Stop bossing me around. STOP WORRYING ABOUT ME!"

And he shouted back at her. "I ALMOST GOT YOU KILLED! I DON'T CARE IF YOU WANT ME TO FOLLOW YOU OR NOT. YOU CAN HATE ME ALL YOU WANT. I AM GOING TO MAKE SURE YOU'RE SAFE, JILL. END…OF….STORY."

His shouting shook the little room. It made her heart race and pound with it. He never even raised his voice. He was so fucking congenial all the time. This was a side of him she'd never seen. And she liked it.

Thunder rumbled somewhere outside the building.

"You're not my father, Chris. You're not my boss. And you're not my boyfriend. You don't get to tell me what to do. Get out of my way. Go home. And leave me the hell alone."

"Shut up, Jill. Just shut up." He shook his head and she watched the pulse in his throat. Hard. Visible. He was so mad. She felt like poking him even more to see how mad he'd get.

"Go chase your girlfriend around and have her cast spells on you, you big idiot. I don't NEED YOU TO PROTECT ME. Your protection SUCKS. It's bossy and rude and stupid. Like you're stupid. You're so stupid. You dumped me to protect yourself. You idiot. YOU COWARD. Take your protection and stick it up your ass. Give it to some stupid girl that wants it. I DON'T NEED YOU." She was breathing so heavy, so hard. She was vibrating with it.

He was soaked from head to toe. The red t-shirt he wore was molded to his body. His body was muscled and ropey with it and wound up so tight it was like looking at a ticking time bomb. Where would he explode? How would he explode?

She finished it now, softly, "Go HOME, Chris. Go home. And leave me alone."

And his answer…his answer rocked her soul. It was a sharp hiss of regret. It wasn't anything she'd ever heard from him. Ever. He wasn't a man that dwelled in regret. "I can't. I can't. I wish to god I could."

He moved and she whispered, "Don't."

But he did.

He grabbed her and threw her against the boxes behind her. She skidded across them and rolled on the table beyond. The thrill of it fired hard and desperate. He pushed her down and she lifted her arms. She pushed on his chest and he knocked her hands away. It made her blood roar in her head.

She opened her legs even as she pushed against his chest. She was a contradiction. He was a contradiction. This whole mess was a contradiction. He jerked her to the end of the table and ground their clothed groins together. Her hands scrambled at him. He set his teeth against her breast through the little running bra.

Freight train. Yep. That was all him.

Jill gasped, "Don't. Wait."

Don't wait. That sounded about right.

And he answered, "Shut up. Stupid girl. Shut up."

She grappled at his arms and pushed. She gripped his hips to run him over her. Them, this, everything about them was a contradiction. They wanted. They panicked. They needed. They ran. It was on them both.

Best of intentions.

Too stupid to stay away.

How did they break the cycle?

He ground himself against her body again. She cried out and bucked at him. And he pretty much growled it now, "Tell me why I shouldn't fuck you, Jill. Tell me."

Holy hell. The dirty mouth of his.

"It's a bad idea. It's so bad. It won't help. What we're doing? It's not helping." But her pushing hands were grabbing at him now. Her fingers delved under the wet shit to grip his muscles. She made a small sound and bit into the meat of his chest through the wet shirt.

His fingers tunneled into her hair as he grunted, "Cheese and rice. You're right. Probably. But I don't care. I'm going to fuck the shit out of you. Tell me no. Idiot woman."

"…no. Get off me." Even as she lifted her face for his mouth. They kissed on dual pants.

He actually laughed. He laughed. He jerked off her wet running shorts and panties. He drove his fingers into her body while she shook her head and shoved at him. Her body humped his hand with crude pleasure. She screamed and took it, already wet and throbbing for him.

High pitched, she pleaded, "Stop. Ok? Stop." And she joined her hand with his at her body. She stroked herself while he fingered her. Christ. She didn't even know what she wanted here.

Yes she did. She wanted him.

Her body was shaking like she had hypothermia as she whined, softly, "...I can't...oh god..."

What a liar she was.

Because she did.

She came all over his hand while he fingered her and her own fingers stroked her engorged clit. The sounds she made were like an engine failing to catch and turn over or something. Some kind of uhn-uhn-uhn that was high pitched and sharp. Her thighs snapped shut around his hand. Her hands slapped at his face as she gripped him, bucked through her orgasm, and denied it all at the same time.

He was still the best sex she'd ever had. Damn him.

She grabbed handfuls of his shirt and jerked him down to drive her tongue into his mouth. He grunted and flipped her over on the table. He dragged her to the end of the table on all fours and buried his face against her dripping heat.

Yep. He was that too. He went to town on her throbbing, sopping, desperate body like he'd eat her alive. She mewled, she shouted, she bucked against his tongue as it drove into her body. He drove his fingers into her body while his mouth obliterated her. His other hand skipped up her belly and under her bra and cupped her breast.

He was such a dirty man. She knew what he'd do now. She knew what she wanted, what he wanted. He rolled his head up under her slapping hips, sucked the core of her need right into his mouth, flicked his tongue over her and brought her screaming. His hands humped her hips against his waiting face, against his mouth and tongue. She tried to buck herself into his hungry lips and die there.

Whatever word she was shouting, it wasn't English. Or not exactly.

Jill gasped, bowing, and came against his mouth while he licked her clean. Jesus. Jesus. He rolled her onto her back on the table. And hesitated. He hesitated.

A gentleman at the core apparently, he didn't want to...what? Force her?

Jill demanded, hoarsely, "Finish. Finish it."

"You want it?"

"Yeah. Yeah I want it."

"...cheese and rice..." He grabbed for his wallet from his back pocket.

She shook her head at him and grabbed his belt. Her hands jerked at him. She grabbed him in her first and jerked. His hands fumbled the condom package out of his wallet as it dropped to the floor.

Jill helped him slide it on, shaking. They were both shaking.

This wouldn't help. It wouldn't help either of them.

He almost begged her, "Tell me to stop, Jill."

She kissed him instead as they finished putting the condom on him.

No stopping.

He pushed his jeans to mid thigh and jerked her hips to the edge of the table.

Jill opened her legs wide and hooked her ankles around the backs of his thighs. He didn't drill her into the table. No. He eased his way in.

Each little snug, delving, dipping inch of his impressive girth brought sounds from her mouth that excited them both. He eased half way into her needy little body and eased back out. That's how you made love with Chris Redfield. Slowly, desperately, and completely.

Each thrust into her body earned him another inch of her. It was like climbing a mountain. It was like diving into the depths of the ocean. It was a quest for pleasure that brought them both to the highest peak of want.

She grabbed his soaked shirt and jerked it over his head. He pushed her bra up to fill his mouth with her breasts. Her hands were all over his chest, all over his back and hips. And with one more thrust, he was buried inside of her body and throbbing there.

His face. God, his face. He was so concerned. He was so turned on. He was so worried about her. Jill drove her nails into his ass. "No pain," She gasped it, "Damnit, Chris. No pain. Just love me. Please."

That was the wrong request. It was. She'd meant to say fuck me. She'd said love me. Love me, she'd begged. And she knew, she knew inside her soul, that she wanted that. She wanted him to love her. But she'd take the fucking.

The ride was wet and eager now. They moved apart, they slid together. Jill raised up to sit on the table and wrap her arms and legs around him. He lifted her and held her against his body. Those arms of his didn't even tremble with the effort of lifting her and lowering her on his body. She curled around his front and sealed their mouths together.

Wet now. Wet with rain and want and pain. Pain. Because it should have been nothing but good here. And it was laced with regret. His hands jerked her bra over her head. He kicked off his boots and walked out of his jeans.

He carried her to the tarps on the ground and laid her down on them. She shifted, opened her legs for him and let him ride into her body completely now with each slow, steady, needy thrust. It didn't hurt at all. It filled her up from chest to groin to toes to soul. There was simply no room for anything in her but him.

Their hands intertwined above her head. She lifted her mouth and kissed his chin. He turned his face, lowered it, and kissed her. He let go of her hands and she wrapped him close to her, putting her face against his neck.

Chris shook his head and caught that face, pulling it back to him. They held eyes while he slid into her body and out again. She echoed him and held his face now. Damnit, she thought desperately, she was so fucking in love with him.

This wasn't going to help anyone.

She gasped, bowing, as the slow roll of release spilled from her body and out of her mouth. Her body milked him, clenching and holding him inside of her while she came. Shit, he thought as he pumped into her eager, spasming, sucking heat, shit. This isn't how you stayed friends with Jill Valentine.

His hands adjusted her hips toward him and found that angle that made her eyes blur and her mouth cry out. Yeah. Whatever. He didn't give a fuck about being friends. Right in that moment? He just wanted to be in her.

He tongued one of those perfect little nipples and sucked it into his mouth. Jill gasped, gasped his name, and he was done. His balls clenched, he started to pull out, and she wrapped her legs around his hips and humped into him. Grunting, he gave her what she wanted and pumped his release as far into her as he could get. Balls deep in her body, he filled her up while he mouth fucked her Playboy centerfold tits. Jesus. He'd been a good guy once. Now he was stalking girls and barebacking them in dirty clock towers and fucking them so hard they bled. He was fucking on his boss' desk and risking his career.

Who was he?

Naturally he knew the answer. He was the guy in love with Jill Valentine.

And he was usually so much better at controlling himself than that. He'd let her sneak in, pick the lock on his heart, and run away with it giggling. The master of unlocking indeed.

He rolled off her. They dressed quietly. The sounds of thunder were loud and ominous.

They said nothing.

And he made sure she went home.

In the house, she put her keys on the table. Her thighs trembled. He brushed past her to go to the kitchen and she made a sound.

Some kind of sound of something. Grief? Hunger? He didn't care.

He turned into her and lifted her against his body. Her feet dangled while he held her. She put her face against his neck. She made a little sound.

He said, so softly, "Jilly Bean, don't."

And she pushed away from him. She shook her head, again. And she shoved his chest. He let her, watching her with a kind of mad desperation on his face.

She whispered, "I'll come back before curfew. I'm come back. I'll be good. I'll come back. But I can't stay here. I can't stay. I need to move out. We can't keep doing this to each other. We're so stupid. We can't keep doing this. I'm in love with you. I can't be your room mate any more."

Jill hurried passed him. She went into her room and closed the door, sharp and hard.

Chris cursed. He cursed and went out into the garage to fight his heavy bad. How did they get past this? How did they get back to a place where they could just be friends?

Was he fooling himself in thinking that would ever happen?

He'd broken things off, gently, with Gia. Because he knew she deserved better than to be cheated on. And then she'd broken the curfew. She'd scared him to death. And he'd fucked her raw and hurt them both.

Idiot.

He was all left feet with her. He was all thumbs. He didn't know what the right move was. The right answer. He loved her and wanted her and was scared to lose her. It was an odd feeling for a man who never lingered in bad feelings. But he'd lost his parents, so quick, so sudden and the pain had nearly leveled him. How did he survive it if she died?

And was that a good enough reason to avoid the happiness she brought him?

No.

No, it wasn't. But it was all he had.

And he owed her an apology for all of it. It galled his fucking nuts to know it. He'd fucked her and kept on fucking her like some horny idiot...and fucked up their attempts to move on. He kept fingering her and fondling her and feeling her up. Like some stupid college kid. Some idiot.

He'd lost her trying to hold on to her. He'd cut her loose and couldn't let her go. He kept picturing her dangling out a window and him unable to pull her back up. Why?

Because he didn't know how to hold on to her. He didn't know how to let her go.

How did one get back from that?

He watched the rain and wondered if the answers were somewhere in the wind…the wind blowing in from the West. The wind that had blown in and stolen his parents. And the wind that blown him into the station at the feet of Jill Valentine. And the wind that would, soon enough, blow down a helicopter in an imperiled forest…and leave them all fighting for their lives amongst the undead.


End file.
